Tears are Gems of the Soul
by akblake
Summary: Hobbits have a hidden ability- when they cry, their single tear crystallizes into a colored gem. Bilbo hasn't felt emotion since the death of his parents decades ago, but being dragged on the quest and thrust into close contact with thirteen dwarves has awakened his emotions with a vengeance. Can he keep his secret from those he's becoming close to? Very slow build Thorin/Bilbo.
1. Cornflower

Bilbo regarded the crystalline blue gem twinkling in his hand for a few moments and then gently closed his fist around it with deep reverence. It was the most brilliant cornflower blue that he'd ever seen, even surpassing his cousin's prizewinning crop of bluebottle flowers, and he was in awe that it came from him. Actually, every time that he looked at it he was overcome all over again, for he never shed any tears nowadays. He had thought that he broke that ability during the fell winter when his parents died and all he could do was drip blazing tears in the reds, oranges, and yellows of heart-sick sadness. No more tears came after that. None, at least, until now.

He had been spitting mad, like a teapot forgotten on the high boil or a cat dropped into cold water, when the dwarves and wizard unceremoniously invaded his peaceful home. They raided his pantry, destroyed the layout of his furniture, and poked their noses into absolutely _everything_! He'd been hard-pressed to hide his family's valuables, one tiny chest in particular, so as to keep their grubby paws off of things which were absolutely none of their business. Then, oh and it still made him angry to think on it, the leader arrived to both simultaneously insult Bilbo even while he availed himself of his hospitality. Of all the sheer nerve! Bilbo didn't know how dwarves did things, but that sort of behavior just was not tolerated in the Shire!

But then he found out the reason why he was being intruded upon and could barely restrain the hysterical laughter. Him, Bilbo Baggins, a burglar? He knew that Gandalf's garden didn't grow all the way from root to bud, but this really took the cake when it came to insane ideas. What sort of hobbit did the old wizard think he was, anyway? Out there were the Big People, and with them came danger; the old tales always warned of that, warned exactly what happened to hobbits who were unwary enough to be caught out where the Rangers couldn't protect them, and Bilbo had absolutely no intentions of finding out if those tales were still true or not. He was staying. Right. Here. Thank you very much.

Bilbo supposed those words must be engraved in some sort of book dedicated to famous last words, for he found himself sprinting out the door after the dwarves the next morning, contract in hand and hastily-packed rucksack on his back. He swore that the Valar must derive a perverse pleasure out of making a mess of his fate, for the adventure starts out as a rather horrid affair. He does join, yes, and is given a pony to sit upon, yet there is no true warmth shown from any of the thirteen he's traveling with and he cringes to think how the entire journey will pass if it remains that way.

Balin is the first dwarf who actively makes a friendly overture to him, and it's even on the first night that they stop. As Bilbo stands with his bedroll in hand, trying to figure out exactly how everything is set up, as he's never exactly done this before in all of his walking holidays, the little dwarf gently shows him how to lay things out just so to make a suitable bed. Bilbo would have been fine, but it was the additional pat on the shoulder and tin of salve which surreptitiously pressed its way into his hand which broke through his composure. "It's good for sore muscles," Balin whispered, and Bilbo was so very glad that the white-haired dwarf walked off then, because he truly needed to dash off into the woods for a little privacy. He didn't go far, mindful of his safety in the wild, but the pressing urge just couldn't be allowed where other eyes could see it.

There, in the deepening shadows of the trees, Bilbo cried for the first time since his parents died. His heart swelled with happiness and gratitude for Balin's kind inclusion and one single tear escaped his eye to roll down his cheek, crystallizing until it dropped into his waiting palm. It twinkled and seemed to shine brighter than the dying sunlight could possibly reflect to show its brilliant cornflower coloring, and he knew what he had to do. Gems like these were never kept by the hobbit who shed them, they were always shared, and Bilbo would do his best to honor his people's traditions. Bilbo hooked the thong from under his shirt and fished his gem pouch from where it usually nestled safe against his chest; the new gem would be added to the pouch until he got a chance to gift it to its intended, for there were too many eyes idly watching around the fireside at night and he couldn't risk it. He'd heard that dwarves were greedy for gemstones and went to great lengths to acquire them, so he'd have to be careful in how he gifted the gem. Keeping it for himself never entered into his mind, as that would have been an abomination of Yavanna's gift. Before he headed back and lost the privacy, though, he did make good use of the salve on muscles which felt as abused as pulled taffy, particularly those on the inside of his legs where he had never ridden a pony before.

That night, Bilbo's estimation of Balin crept even higher as the elder dwarf calmed the camp after Kíli and Fíli's trick and told them all a heart-wrenching tale about the Battle of Azanulbizar wherein Thorin lost both his grandfather and his father, along with most of their forces. Bilbo just couldn't imagine losing that many who had been kin, friends… people you had seen and talked to every day, and then after one blood-soaked day never see again. He honestly didn't know what to say or think. _I'm sorry_ wouldn't come close to expressing how much his heart ached in sympathy for all those who were there and lost that day. He was shamed to think of how the Shire carried on with grief when they lost ten hobbits during the fell winter, of which two were his parents, and thought that they didn't truly know the meaning of grief. These dwarves had lost their home, their peace of mind, and then lost the bonds of kinship in battle. Bilbo curled back up in his bedroll and quietly prayed to Yavanna to bless them and to lift their grief, for they had suffered far more than any of the Valar's creations should be asked to.

At sunrise, they were all rousted up and after a quick breakfast found themselves back on the trail again. Bilbo blearily packed his bedroll, half-heartedly brushed at his hair, and made sure to eat as much as he was allowed- who knew when these dwarves would deign to stop next for food? Then it was back on top of the dratted pony for another day of riding. That woke him up quicker than anything as his muscles pulled in pain, though the salve had helped tremendously, and he paid more attention to his surroundings. Luck seemed to be with him today as Balin rode past on his way up to the head of the line and Bilbo quietly garnered his attention.

"Master Balin, might I have a word?" he asked.

Balin amiably grinned and nodded as he pulled up to ride beside. "Of course lad, what is on your mind this morning? Did the salve work well for you?" he questioned, and Bilbo felt his ear tips heat in embarrassment.

"Oh, yes, it did. Thank you very much for that, it was very helpful," he stammered, still embarrassed that he'd needed the salve in the first place while everyone else seemed to manage just fine without it. "I had actually wanted to give you something," Bilbo started as he pulled his little bag out from under his shirt and easily fished out the special gem. "This is something very special to my people, and it's a gesture of friendship to be given, so I hope that you'll accept it." He dropped the little stone into Balin's palm and had to remind himself to breathe as the stunned dwarf examined his tear gem.

"Master Baggins, it's not necessary, but if it's important to you then I will most happily accept. Thank you kindly," he bowed as well he could in the saddle. "Though I have seen much in all my years, I have never seen one such as this, what kind of stone is it?" Balin asked, and Bilbo had to remember the explanation he'd thought up last night.

"Please, call me Bilbo, and it's simply a stone found only in the Shire. We give them as gifts to friends, and after last night I hope that I could count you as one," he stated as lightly as he could.

Balin didn't seem to notice anything off in his words and for that Bilbo was thankful. "Then I am Balin to you, young Bilbo," he tucked the gem away in a small metal case which he secreted away in a hidden pocket in his clothing again. "And aye I would be honored to count you as friend, lad." A shout from further up the line caught there attention and cut their conversation short as Balin was called up to speak with his brother and Thorin.

He and Bilbo shared a parting nod, and then Bilbo was left to ride with Gandalf. He took one look at the wizard's knowing expression and frowned. "Not one word out of you. It's your own fault that I'm here in the first place, so I don't want to hear anything from you on this, and you're not to tell them either," he warned. Gandalf merely had the temerity to chuckle around his pipe stem in return, though he did remain blissfully silent for the rest of the day's ride.

He watched the others as a few days passed, and edged closer to a few, drawn by his own yearning to finally be close to others after long years of solitude- Bofur, Ori, Fíli, and Kíli were the four that he felt the safest approaching as they didn't seem to mind his overtures of friendship. He felt it strange that dwarves drew his heart's emotions out of their shell whereas his own people couldn't. Indeed, other hobbits had stopped trying more than twenty years ago after he'd rebuffed them so many times and given him up as a mad defect, a hobbit who had died inside yet still continued to live and breathe. Oh, they still treated him kindly, but it was with the sort of patronizing air that one would give an invalid, and Bilbo had ceased to care about even that- numb to it. Until thirteen dwarves turned up on his doorstep and aggravated him back into living. He changed his mind hourly whether he wanted to hug them or hit them for it.

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A/N:

Yes, this is a wip that I'm posting and I know that it's unusual of me. But I do have a purpose for it! I need to ask for a beta, another first, who can help me smooth out the emotions in the chapters, keep things from getting repetitive (as you can assume handing over gems and explaining could get a wee bit 1, 2, 3 after a while), and speak up with ideas if you have any. Erm, taking a sharp pointed stick to my person may also be required as I tend to slack off a bit, hence why I never post an open work and always wait until it's finished :D I do, however, have four chapters and six dwarves already written, so I am still a bit ahead of what you see if that's any consolation... Anyway, please let me know if anyone is interested in assisting, or if I should even continue this idea in the first place- emotion truly isn't my strongest writing point. So, is there anyone willing to offer help as a beta?

Also: Yes, this premise is *exactly* like _Salt Stones_ by Elaine_Penny... that is because both are fills for the same prompt at the Hobbit Kink Meme and as such will contain the same elements in order to meet the original poster's request (a list of details/elements that the poster would like to see included in any story written for his/her prompt). I can provide a link to the prompt if requested, but I would rather not as that would quite spoil what is to come. To make perfectly clear: I have carefully avoided reading Salt Stones to avoid the possibility of borrowing ideas, though it is at the top of my 'to read' list once I get this one finished.


	2. Midnight

Tonight they were camped by a river and Bilbo had the dubious honor of being sent out with Bofur to catch their dinner. With fishing poles, of all things. He knew that their cousins down the Brandywine loved to catch fish in this way, and even some of their more adventurous folk in the Shire did too, but Bilbo had never attempted to catch anything with a stick and bit of string. He looked dubiously at the contraption which had been pushed into his hand.

"Just what exactly am I to do with this?" he asked and watched Bofur's grin turn confused.

"You mean that you've never been fishing, Master Baggins?" He asked in disbelief, scratching under his hat. "I saw your beautiful river on our way in," Bofur stated as a partial argument.

Bilbo shook his head. "Yes, we fish the river, but we use nets and traps, not contraptions like these which can't be used from the flat banks. Our river cousins use them, but only from boats out in the river," he leaned in towards Bofur to entrust a particular terror of his. "Hobbits can't swim, you see. We're too dense and sink right to the bottom, so it's better for us to stay on the bank where we can't drown." Bilbo shivered at the thought and reflexively eyed the fast river in front of them.

Bofur grimaced with him at the same thought. "Aye, that would be nasty. But we'll be staying far back tonight, and you won't be in any danger. I can swim better than the rest of them and you'll be back on the bank before your head goes under if you fall in, I swear it Master Baggins," he vowed, and despite the awkward wording Bilbo did feel reassured.

It was charming, in a way, and touched his heart that Bofur would go to such lengths to make him feel safe. Bilbo allowed the dwarf to show him how to hold the rod, how to cast the line out into the water, and how to pull it back in. The first several times he tried, it got hopelessly tangled (once in his own hair, to his mortification), but Bofur patiently sorted it out and showed him the same steps with the same gentle hands helping him. Never once did he sigh or get impatient, and never once did he grab harder than he needed to.

"Have you done this before?" Bilbo asked thickly around the emotion crowding his throat.

Bofur spared him a surprised look before he redirected his gaze to attentively watch his own bated fishing line. "Taught someone how to fish? Aye, taught Bombur when he was a tot, though it was more difficult to keep him _out_ of the water than it was anything else. Little guy loved to bob along in the current like an apple, just splashing and kicking. Scared away all the fish but I didn't have the heart to scold him for it," Bofur chuckled at the memories. "It's no hardship to teach you, Master Baggins; you're attentive, quiet, and patient," he finished, still looking away from Bilbo, for which he was thankful.

The desperate need clawed at Bilbo's chest and pressed behind his eyes, and Bilbo had to get away. He handed off his pole to Bofur, "I've got to go into the brush for a moment, could you please?" he asked, implying that he needed a few moments to relieve himself, and received an equitable nod in return. Bilbo hurried off to a discreet bush and, as soon as he was sure he was out of sight, allowed the tear to drip down his face. He swallowed hard as the emotions released and the gem dropped to his waiting hand. He held it in a small shaft of sunlight to better see it. This one was a dark blue, nearly black until the light hit it, and was nearly mesmerizing in its depths as it sparkled. Bilbo smiled, thrilled with what his heart produced, and clenched it hard as he thanked Yavanna for her gift before he tucked it away in his pouch. He then did quickly relieve himself as his excuse wasn't all that much of a lie, and scampered back to join Bofur.

Two fish sat upon the bank to greet his return and Bilbo happily reclaimed his pole.

"You missed a grand fight there," Bofur teased as he indicated the smallish fish.

"I can imagine, though I'm sure that you acquitted yourself admirably," Bilbo felt sure enough to tease back, earning himself a chuckle as they both watched their lines for activity. The setting sun glimmered off the water, breaking into hundreds of sparkling points, and Bilbo didn't immediately notice when his line dipped. He did notice, when the pole nearly jerked out of his lax hands and he yelped in surprise as he grabbed at it.

Bofur remained as calm as Bilbo was panicked and talked him through the entire process. "Now, you gotta tease the pole back a bit, pull it in some and then let it back out, you want to let the fish tire itself out without getting away," he gently helped Bilbo maneuver the pole around until they had the fish to the very edge of the bank where Bofur expertly flipped it onto the ground to join the other two. It flopped and flipped in vain as it searched for water, but he'd landed it too far inland for it to make it back. Bilbo nearly felt sorry for the poor thing as it lay gasping, exhausted and dying, but his belly growled with hunger and he pushed away such sentiment. They couldn't afford much mercy if they wished to make it to the end of their journey in one peace, but he was glad that others took care of this job back at home all the same.

"See, your first fish, Master Baggins!" Bofur cheered and Bilbo couldn't help but laugh along with his infectious smile. As Bofur turned back to attend to his own neglected fishing pole, Bilbo made up his mind.

"Master Bofur, if I may?" He paused to dig into his pouch for the gem as Bofur turned a curious look his way.

"None of that formal stuff for me, lad, we're familiar enough that you can just call me Bofur same as all the rest," he interrupted gently.

Bilbo paused, caught by the unexpected gesture. "Thank you, that does mean a lot. And please call me Bilbo," he invited. "I actually wanted to give you this." Bilbo held out the little gem and dropped in the hand Bofur extended. "In the Shire, we give a stone like that one to the person we wish to befriend." He hesitated. "Would you mind if I counted you as my friend?"

Instead of studying the gem in his hand, Bofur chose to study Bilbo. "I already counted you as my friend," he replied more seriously than Bilbo had seen him speak so far on the journey, "but I'd be honored for you to consider me as yours." As Bilbo flushed with pleased embarrassment, Bofur turned his eyes to the gem and held it up to allow light to pass through. "It's a curious little thing, though undeniably beautiful, what is it?"

"It's just a stone that's found in the Shire; we use them as friendship stones. I don't think we've ever gotten around to ever giving them a name, come to think of it. We just call them gems," Bilbo partially lied again. They were gems, they were found in the Shire, and that particular kind was given in friendship, though he wasn't being entirely honest. The dratted wizard and his love of half-truths were rubbing off on him, Bilbo mused with sadness.

"Then I'll treasure it, my friend, just as I'll treasure our friendship," Bofur firmly stated. He pulled out a small drawstring bag from a thong around his neck, not unlike Bilbo's, and carefully placed the gem inside of it. He also poked around and withdrew something before he secured the bag back under his layers of clothing. The little something was held out to Bilbo, and he accepted it. "That's an emerald," Bofur explained, "only it's a special one that grew in red and not green. I mined it some twenty years ago."

Bilbo examined the pinky-red bit of stone with wonder. It was slightly milky and hadn't been cut into a gemstone, but it was absolutely beautiful and he carefully cradled it as he handed it back.

"Nope, that's for you," Bofur refused. "You gave me the most beautiful stone that I've seen in friendship, and I want to give you a beautiful stone in return that represents me." He turned back to fishing as if his statement and gift was the simplest thing in the world when in fact it had rocked Bilbo to the core. None other than his parents had gifted him things, and he felt his heart swell as he very carefully put the red emerald away in his gem bag to keep it safe.

"Thank you, Bofur, I've never," he choked out, and Bofur waved it away.

"Nothing to it, and no thanks needed- you're a good friend, Bilbo Baggins. Now, let's fish before someone comes wondering why dinner's so late!" Bofur joked. Bilbo laughed, thankful to clear the air and let the heavy emotion recede again. Unused to dealing with them after so long, feeling emotions well up was a frightening business even if it was welcome in this case.

Bilbo picked up his fishing pole and, with hook bated again, gamely cast back into the water. Thirty minutes later, they actually managed to land five fish; two large bottom-feeders and three of the smaller colorful fish which darted near the surface, which should be enough to feed the company for the night.

"What say you we head back before they believe the growling bellies are a pack of wargs?" Bofur teased and they shared a laugh as they carried fish and poles back to camp.

That night after dinner, Bilbo stayed near Bofur to watch as he whittled on a small bit of wood. He couldn't tell yet what it was supposed to be but watching as the skillful hands carved off thin curls of wood proved to be hypnotically soothing and Bilbo was content to merely sit and silently watch the block of wood slowly disappear into shavings on the ground.

Motion at his side broke the spell and Bilbo looked over to see the Bifur had joined them and had his own carving project out. This one was further along and, even to his untrained eye, was very obviously a shaggy pony. It had the beginnings of a long stiff mane, just like theirs did, and a fat little round belly. He was working on its tiny little hooves when he noticed Bilbo's curious gaze and held it up for him to see it better. "That's absolutely beautiful," Bilbo honestly praised the talented work, and Bifur silently nodded with a little smile as he went back to his carving.

The few hours flew and before he knew it, everyone was tucking into their bedrolls for the night. Bilbo curled under his blanket and smiled to himself as he counted another friend in the camp, another stone given from his heart. He lightly gripped his gem bag as he thought of the emerald which resided within and allowed himself to hope that perhaps this journey could turn out far, far better than he'd hoped for when he started out.


	3. Sky

A/N: definite thanks to my beta, killerwhiterose, for catching my mistakes and keeping me honest :)

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Two nights later, Bilbo startled awake in the dark to find that the tiny little carved pony he'd admired had been finished and tucked into his hand. He turned towards the faded fire to better see the details and was amazed by how lifelike the figure truly was. It had even been rubbed with different oils, nut oils if his nose told true, to lend the mane and tail a darker bit of shading than the body. Bilbo felt a tear well up and he freely allowed it to fall rather than stifle the urge- everyone was asleep and the simple yet thoughtful gift was something that touched him.

The tear fell from the corner of his eye and crystallized into a gem by the time he heard it plop softly onto the bedroll by his ear. Bilbo reached up to retrieve it and felt a bit disappointed that he couldn't really see much about it, other than it was a very light shade of blue, due to the fire having burned down. He kept it fisted safely in his free hand as he rolled over to go back to sleep, still clutching the little pony in his other hand.

Morning, when it came, greeted the company with a wet and nearly impenetrable fog. Bilbo could see barely another hobbit-length in front of himself as he maneuvered around and dodged the sleep clumsy dwarves. Finally though, he found the one he wanted and waited until Bifur turned to acknowledge him. Bilbo still clasped the tiny pony, small enough to fit easily into his hand, to his chest and he held out his other hand to the baffled dwarf.

"Thank you so very much, Master Bifur, you truly didn't need to," Bilbo started out, but was quickly silenced by Bifur's fierce yet reassuring expression as the toy-maker nodded. He quickly reconsidered that perhaps gift giving could be important to dwarves and he shouldn't protest, so he simply shook his hand a bit to draw attention to it. "Then I'd be honored if you'd take my gift in return as a gesture of friendship."

The little stone dropped into Bifur's waiting hand and he rolled it around in his palm as he peered at it closely. Bilbo still couldn't see much other than to confirm that it was lighter than the other two that he'd given, but he didn't feel disappointed in any way. They were not his gems to keep, and Yavanna chose in ways which were not his for understanding to match the stone with its intended bearer, so Bilbo didn't need to worry beyond a wish to sate his own bottomless curiosity.

Bifur closed his hand over the gem and, while watching Bilbo carefully, gave a little bow of thanks before he pulled a little engraved silver tube out of his beard, unstopped the top, and dropped the gem inside before he secured it once again among his hair. Bilbo blinked several times as he tried to avoid staring at the odd sight. That certainly was a new one on him, though he could see the benefits of such a hiding place- no thief could easily access it without the owner knowing well about it. The dwarf watched Bilbo carefully and then tipped his head forward expectantly, though slightly tilted to the side; Bilbo's forehead furrowed in concentration as he tried to think what Bifur could possibly want, until he apparently lost patience with waiting and simply reached up to gently grab the back of Bilbo's neck and bring their foreheads to rest together for a few seconds.

"Oh," Bilbo breathed in both understanding and some nerves, as he hadn't expected to be grabbed. "Um, you're welcome?" he guessed and received a soft snort of a laugh in return as they separated. Bifur at least looked amused even as he shook his head a bit, though it was more like how Bilbo's uncle had looked when Bilbo was a very young lad and had greatly entertained the old hobbit by missing something that the rest of the adults understood. It was a feeling that he got often now with how reclusive some of these dwarves were.

Dwalin's shout to pack up rolled over camp, though dimmed by the fog, and Bilbo started to turn away only to turn back as he remembered his manners. Just because one couldn't speak to him in _his_ language didn't mean that he shouldn't offer. "Please, call me Bilbo when you speak of me?" he requested.

Oddly, Bifur seemed to understand the request for he pointed to himself and nodded meaningfully back at Bilbo. "And I am to use your name?" he guessed again, though correctly this time as he got a decisive nod in return. "Thank you, my friend," Bilbo offered again before the two had to part in order to pack up their night's mess and ready themselves for another day of riding.

The day passed in dreary, cold, wet misery as the fog didn't lift until late afternoon, well after it had soaked everyone to the skin with chill water. No one was in a good mood at all and Bilbo kept to the back of the line to stay out of their way, though Bofur and Bifur dropped back regularly to keep him company. Even the normally boisterous Fíli and Kíli were bedraggled and subdued by the time they stopped for the night. No one spoke much after dinner, though Bilbo tucked himself between Bofur and Bifur again to watch as they carved, and he completely missed the mix of curious and indulgent expressions which spread through the camp as dwarves noticed his closeness to the cousins. He did, however, happen to glance up and catch the looks of disapproval coming from Dwalin and Thorin. Those nearly made him shrink back into himself until he was jostled slightly by his friends, and Bilbo firmly refocused his attention to a much more pleasant pair of dwarves until he was ready to retire for the night.

The next night was mind-numbing terror and flashes of memory as he tried (and failed) to escape from three trolls. Even with thirteen dwarves fighting them, he still managed to get himself caught, and had to fight down the instinct to shed hopeless tears as he waited for Thorin to stand impassively while the trolls tore him to bits. When they all chose to discard their weapons instead, he was so relieved that he nearly lost consciousness, blackness encroaching and his vision tunneling, but then that could have been more due to the fact that he'd been holding his breath than from anything else.

He did his best to stall for time, mind still rather thick from the fading panic and disbelief that they saved him that he honestly didn't recall just what all he nattered on at the trolls. Apparently not all of it was flattering if he went by the offended looks some of the company were giving him as they dressed.

Kíli and Fíli held him back as everyone else trooped off to follow Gandalf to the trolls' cave and Bilbo turned a questioning expression to them. "Yes, can I help you?" he asked when the pair seemed reluctant to speak up.

Fíli nudged his brother hard, nearly making him stumble, and the younger dwarf spoke up. "We wanted to apologize to you, for sending you after the trolls alone and getting you into this mess," he earnestly said to Bilbo once he'd finished glaring at his brother. He stepped back smoothly, stomping on Fíli's foot.

"And we owe you our thanks for thinking quickly enough to keep us alive. If you hadn't thought to delay them, we'd be far fewer this morning," Fíli and Kíli both bowed to him and finished together. "Thank you, Master Baggins, for saving our lives."

"Oh, oh my. It really wasn't anything special, I'm sure either of your would have done it if I hadn't," Bilbo stammered, caught by their honest gratitude and surprised at how much it made his heart swell in return. The brothers hadn't ever truly been cold or dismissive to him during the journey, only more like his mischievous Took cousins who saw any living being as fair game for their lively pranks, and he easily forgave them for the night's problems.

"Actually," Fíli spoke up, "I was tied to a spit and couldn't do anything of the sort, and Kíli, well, he couldn't think up anything like what you did if you gave him a week…" Fíli's taunt was broken off as his brother shoved him into a pile of decaying leaves.

"What the idiot meant was, even Uncle Thorin couldn't think of a way to get us out of the situation, so don't make light of what you did and don't let his grumbling make you feel like you didn't do a great service," Kíli managed to say even as he dodged his brother's retaliatory strikes.

Bilbo backed away to remain clear of the altercation as the two became more actively entangled. "Well then, I thank you for your appreciation," he said, and slipped away to rejoin the others. Those two were definitely like his little cousins, even down to the fighting, though usually his cousins fought over mushrooms and pipe-weed. He smartly stepped to the side as the brothers tripped over each other and went rolling together down the hill towards the troll cave, laughing the entire way as if it was entirely their idea to go all topsy-turvy down the little hill. As soon as they were out of sight, Bilbo swallowed thickly and allowed his emotions their freedom. He was surprised, yet somehow not truly, when two tears dripped down to land in his palm as perfectly identical gems. They were both perfectly round as all his tears ended up being, yet their color was the exact same shade of sapphire.

Hearing voices, Bilbo quickly dropped them into his pouch and barely had it secured when Fíli and Ori appeared within sight to beckon him on. "Come on, Master Baggins," Ori encouraged, "you really don't want to miss seeing _this_!"

Even though he rather was sure that he did want to miss seeing a troll cave, he allowed the two to chivvy him along and rejoin the others outside of the dirty great hole in the ground. The cave defied even his active imagination. The stench rising from its mouth was worse than the time Odo Proudfoot's cow fell into the dry well during that summer and they couldn't get its body back out again. Bilbo felt his stomach rise as he tried to back away. The dwarves didn't seem to want him to go far, and kept pushing him behind them towards the safety rocky outcropping, which was far too close to the cave for his tastes.

He was just considering how best to escape from this newfound protection when everyone emerged from the cave, ready to go. Much to his dismayed amazement Gandalf called him over to hand him a small sword from the hoard. Even as Bilbo protested taking it, the old wizard explained that he'd need it for his own protection. He stopped protesting as he thought it over- last night he was caught because he was attempting to steal a knife from one of the trolls in order to free the ponies; if he'd had his own sword or knife, much of the situation may have been changed. Bilbo gave in and took the sword without further argument even as a cry went up about an incoming intruder.

What followed soon after that was far more sheer terror and running for his life than could ever be healthy.


	4. Sapphire and Cerulean

**A/N: Interesting relevant tidbit... back before we all became so informal and graceless in our speech with each other, the proper form of address for an unmarried man was 'Master', while 'Mister' was proper for one who was married. So, that is why my dwarves are all 'Master' while one is 'Mister'. It isn't a typo, only one author's love of an era when manners mattered ;)**

* * *

Walking into Rivendell, coming on the heels of his panicked run, felt almost surreal to Bilbo's exhausted mind. However, not all was perfect even in the elven haven; the dwarves were not very gracious guests and actually behaved worse than they did when they invaded his smial. He left them to their raucous goings-on and left to find his assigned room just as soon as politely possible as his eyelids were becoming too heavy to keep open. Even his mind, usually ever-sharp of wit, was fogged with exhaustion.

Bilbo's feet didn't want to walk a straight path as he meandered down the hallway and his heavy pack seemed determined to pull him into the wall. He stumbled yet again, belatedly putting his hands up to fend off the incoming wall, when larger hands grasped his shoulders and gently righted him. His pack was lifted off of his shoulders and he felt light enough to float. "Easy there laddie, you'll do yerself an injury if you're not careful," cautioned a gruff voice behind him. It took Bilbo an embarrassingly long time, almost thrice as long as normal, to recognize Glóin's speech.

And even longer to remember that he needed to respond rather than keep mechanically marching forward like some wind-up toy. "Oh, erm, thank you. Yes, thank you Mister Glóin." Bilbo managed to force the words out, barely a mumble, but enough to salve his sense of propriety.

"Come along now, you're nearly asleep on your feet. Let's get you to bed, Master Burglar," Glóin took charge and recaptured Bilbo's shoulders in his large hands to steer him down the center of the hallway. In a very detached way, Bilbo wondered if he should protest being handled in such a fashion, but it did seem far more efficient and it did keep him from painfully meeting the walls, so he let go the thought and simply moved where directed.

In no time at all he was being maneuvered into a small room and, glory of all glories, there was an actual _bed_ against the far wall. Bilbo made a happy noise and shuffled towards the very welcome sight only to find that it was far softer than it looked and even more heavenly to lie down on. He crawled on top of the covers, was asleep before his head hit the pillow, and didn't wake until late morning.

It was actually when the sun stubbornly refused to shift itself out of his eyes that Bilbo stretched himself under the sheets, groaning at the various pops his joints made as they made him very aware of their aches. He blinked his eyes open and considered rolling over, pulling the covers over his head, and- covers? Awake enough to think now, Bilbo's mind caught up with the last things he remembered from the last night which included a very embarrassing rescue by Glóin and his crawling on _top_ of the covers to sleep. A quick check revealed that not only was he under the covers, but he was sleeping in only his smallclothes.

"Oh my," Bilbo muttered to himself as both mortification and a warming sense of something else pushed against the inside of his chest. Apparently, after he had all but passed out on the bed, Glóin had been kind enough to settle him in to sleep in comfort; the dwarf must have assumed, and correctly so, that his underclothes would serve as passable pajamas and mercifully stripped his filthy layers off before he tucked Bilbo under the covers. He didn't know why Glóin went to the effort, but he never expected such care to be directed towards his person.

A small tear escaped from under his closed eyelid, tickled against his nose as it tumbled past, and landed with a soft noise against the pillow. Bilbo picked it up before he sat up and gave up on sleeping, caught by the emotions settling in his soul and the beauty in the gem he just created. It didn't sparkle in the sun like a faceted gem, but instead shone with a glow in the medium blue color of a sunlit river. It was beautiful. Bilbo laughed at himself; he thought _all_ of his gems were beautiful, but then he was rather biased as it was his soul that created them. He pulled his pouch out from under his thin undershirt and tucked the gem safely inside to rest with the others in his collection. As he put the pouch away, he patted it in silent promise- today he'd see that those three precious gems found their intended homes and didn't stay with him for a minute longer than necessary. Grumbles from his midsection drove him from his bed. Swiftly dressing in less soiled clothing from the pack Bilbo found tucked between bed and nightstand, he left in search of food to fill the empty space in his middle; now that he thought of it, it felt like he'd slept straight through both breakfasts and possibly through elevensies too. No wonder his belly gnawed with hunger!

Bilbo wandered from his room, turned right from a dim memory of last night's arrival, and eventually found his way back to the open area where the company had raucous celebration. The only two souls to meet his eyes today were Fíli and Kíli who seemed to lounge with particular intent in mind for they bounded to their feet just as soon as they caught sight of him.

"Master Baggins!" They called together and hurried over to bracket him.

"We were just waiting for you to wake up…" Fíli started.

"Actually, Uncle said that we'd be training with Dwalin's warhammer if we woke you…" Kíli interrupted his brother and earned a smack to the back of his head behind Bilbo's back.

Fíli continued on, ignoring Kíli's glare, "because we didn't think you remembered where we all ate last night and we thought that you'd like a bit of help."

Bilbo quickly spoke up to avoid any more retaliation, and to forestall another tussle that the two were so fond of. "Thank you both, I appreciate you waiting for me. I was going to look for you both anyway, so it's a wonderful bit of luck," he redirected their curiosity away from hitting each other as he pulled out his pouch and unerringly found their identical gems without having to look inside it. "These are something which we give in the Shire, as tokens of friendship, and I'd like for you two to have them as I hope to count you two among my friends," Bilbo offered.

Fíli and Kíli both accepted their dark blue gems with expressions of childlike wonder and raced to the railing so that they could hold them into the light. In the sun's light, the gems sparkled with inner life unlike any other stone and both were entranced. "What kind of stone is this?" Kíli whispered with awe, not moving his eyes from the sight.

"Oh, we've never really named them, only given them to people we truly feel are friends, and even then we've never really given them to anyone who isn't a hobbit," Bilbo again spoke around the truth to protect his people's secrets.

Fíli did look at him then. "Are you sure that this is allowed, then?" he asked, looking very familiar with kin-only customs.

Bilbo had to laugh at that. "Oh, it's perfectly fine, truly. They've given up on making me follow the rules anyway, so no one much cares," he brushed aside the concern even as he looked away to hide his feelings. No, his fellow hobbits didn't much care at all, but it wasn't so much because he didn't follow the rules as because he had nearly died inside and they'd given up on him; had long given up on trying to bring the spark of his soul back to life.

A shoulder bumping into his quickly brought him out of the morose thoughts and he turned back to find Fíli standing beside him, Kíli slightly behind. Both wore more serious expressions than he was used to seeing and it drove home in his mind that, for all their childish actions, the two were actually adults and warriors in their own rights.

"We would be honored for you to call us friends, Master Baggins, and to extend to you the same," Fíli stated solemnly.

A smile stole across Bilbo's face at their acceptance. "Thank you," he acknowledged, "and please, as my friends, call me Bilbo- there isn't any need for formality here."

Kíli grinned back in unison with his brother. "Then you must use our names too," he insisted before his stillness gave way to bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Now that we're friends, can we _please_ go eat? Even though these elves don't know how to lay down a proper feast, I'm still starving and don't want to fade away," Kíli moaned in exaggerated anguish to draw laughter from his brother and Bilbo.

"You sound like one of those trolls from last night," Bilbo teased him while they resumed their route towards the dining hall. Seconds later he was dashing down the hallway as an indignant Kíli gave chase, Fíli helplessly laughing in their wake.

After filling his belly with lunch - he'd been right about missing three meals so far - and seeing the brothers off for their afternoon training, Bilbo wandered around the outside terraces of Rivendell to marvel at its beauty. He was looking up at a carving in a fountain when he ran straight into someone and hastened to apologize.

Instead of accepting his apologies, Thorin simply cautioned him. "Take care not to get lost," he rumbled, and Bilbo wondered how that could possibly be a concern. Weren't they safe here?

"If I get lost, I can ask an elf to direct me back to where I need to go," he airily brushed off both the warning and his confusion.

Thorin leveled a flat look at him and Bilbo drew back. "Never trust anyone you don't know, and _never _trust an elf," he spat and walked past Bilbo to disappear around the fountain.

He didn't know what made him do it, but the words, "So then, I shouldn't trust _you_?" flew out of his mouth before Bilbo could clench his jaw to stop them. No growl of irritation or yell of rage followed, only silence, so he exhaled in relief- apparently Thorin didn't hear his impertinent response. By Thorin's own words, Bilbo ought not to trust him as he didn't know the dwarf at all, yet he actually did. He trusted Thorin to lead them, to make decisions which kept them safe, even if he didn't really know him at all in a personal sense. But, by Yavanna, that stubborn dwarf got on his very last nerve when dealing with him and then Bilbo usually ended up saying words that he didn't truly mean to say. At least this time no one else was around to hear his idiocy, he was relieved to note, and quickly fled from the fountain.

Wandering well and truly spoiled, Bilbo turned back and found his way to an alcove he remembered which overlooked the training area. It was fairly secluded, but had a bench positioned perfectly so that he could sit and watch while Fíli and Kíli practiced with their weapons. When he got there he discovered, however, that he wasn't alone- Glóin was sitting on the bench already, watching the two younger ones chase each other around under the pretext of training.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb," Bilbo apologized as he turned to find another spot, but was called back.

Glóin shifted his bulk along the bench to make room and patted the extra space. "No need to go, laddie, you can watch the imbeciles just fine from right here," he assured. "Dwalin gave up on them a while ago and just let them run as they will to burn it off, at least until their uncle catches them," Glóin chuckled.

The brothers were making a ruckus as they darted all over the open green flat space that the dwarves had appropriated as a practice ground. Fíli leapt over a bench with a yell, both swords held high, Kíli only seconds behind with his own sword in hand, pursuing his brother. They came together in mock fight, traded a few blows, and then at some signal that Bilbo couldn't see, Kíli was off running around the outer edges with a wild shriek, his brother chasing after. He could hardly believe that these two hooligans were the same dwarves who maturely accepted his gems in friendship; they looked to him more like five year old fauntlings running amok at a birthday party after being fed far too much iced cake.

As he couldn't find a better opportunity if he tried, Bilbo quickly fished out Glóin's gem and turned to the dwarf. "I owe you many thanks for helping me last night," he started only to be cut off by a wave of Glóin's hand.

"No you don't lad. You were overtired and needed help, is all. It's nothing that I haven't done for my wee Gimli when he's tired himself out after a day spent down on the training sands, and I didn't mind doing it for you. Actually felt like a bit of home, tucking you in, so you don't owe me a thing."

"Then would you accept my friendship?" Bilbo asked, surprised at Glóin's gruff kindness.

"Aye, that'll do perfectly, Master Burglar," Glóin graciously accepted the offer. When Bilbo held out the gem he curiously accepted, the small gem looking even tinier in his large hand. "What's this now?" he asked.

"It's tradition in the Shire, that a stone like this is given to mark friendship, and I'd like for you to have it," Bilbo explained, the explanation coming quicker with practice.

Glóin searched his expression and somehow Bilbo knew that he didn't fully believe the explanation, though he secreted the gem away in a tiny gold box which he tucked back under his clothes. "Thank ye, it's a beautiful tradition you have, and I'm more than happy to call you friend even without it," he stated slowly. "And as we'll be friends, I'll expect you to use my name from now on, none of this fancy to do you've been using."

"Of course Glóin, I'd be happy to, but only if you'll do the same for me," Bilbo insisted. It was, after all, mannerly for friends to address each other in the familiar whereas he wouldn't dream of it with the others. Apparently the dwarves had the same belief, for none of them used his given name without his leave.

Their talk was interrupted by Thorin's silent appearance as he stalked to lean against the rail and watched Fíli and Kíli's antics. Bilbo and Glóin quieted as they watched him in turn, but he made no move to stop the brothers, only observe them, until Fíli happened to look up far enough to catch sight of his uncle.

His sudden freezing was comical, especially as Kíli followed suit with the exact same expression, looking too much like two small children caught misbehaving. "You'll do double tomorrow," was all Thorin promised before he walked off with barely a nod of recognition to Bilbo and Glóin.

Fíli and Kíli dragged themselves off the green, suddenly disheartened with their fun at the promise of twice the work tomorrow. Bilbo and Glóin also wandered off in their own directions, Glóin to cheer the boys up with a cup of wine, and Bilbo to find the kitchens. His stomach was forcefully informing him that it was time for tea, and it had no intention of missing another of the three remaining meals that day.


	5. Ice

They didn't get to stay in Rivendell anywhere near as long as Bilbo wanted to, though an exhausted and bruised Fíli and Kíli could swear differently- Gandalf got a message to Thorin that sent the entire company fleeing the hidden valley in the early predawn hours. That was the last comfort he experienced for a very, very long time.

Following their abrupt departure, it was more hiking, and then sheer terror as stone giants fought each other with complete disregard for the tiny beings clinging to their rocky bodies. By the time they all collapsed in the cave, Bilbo's chest hurt inside from how hard his heart pounded. He was nearly squashed, then nearly fell, and then… well, Thorin's words cut deeply into a heart that had only just begun to feel emotion again. Curled up with his back to the company, a tear escaped Bilbo's clenched eyelids and dripped down to his haphazard bedroll.

Aghast that he had so little control as to cry where he could possibly be observed, Bilbo immediately sought out the gem to protect and hide it only to have his hand freeze and start shaking. There, laying so innocently on his bedroll, was a ruby red gem shining like a drop of freshly-shed blood. He swallowed thickly as he forced himself to pick it up. It wasn't the soul-singing blue of happiness, no. Red was the spirit cracked open and bleeding in sadness, as his mother once explained it, and he _despised_ the color. Reds, oranges, and yellows were the only colors he could cry there at the end, when his parents died, before his emotions fled and left him feeling shallower than a rain puddle.

The red gem didn't playfully sparkle or glitter at him like the blue ones did; it was shiny on the outside as if it had been polished, but on its inside it was cloudy and shot through with cracked faults. Bilbo placed the gem on the rocky floor and used a loose bit of rock to crush the offending tear into jagged and unidentifiable pieces. _These_ colors were never given to anyone and were always destroyed at the first opportunity to eradicate the heartache they represented. During those horrible days that Bilbo didn't like to remember, he'd had an entire jar of gem shards collected from where he couldn't find the energy to get up and properly dispose of them in the river.

That single horrible red tear decided his mind and Bilbo stealthily packed to sneak back to the last place where he was happy- Rivendell. Lord Elrond had been kind enough to offer a place to stay, and the valley's pervading peace was a balm to his raw emotions. After so long without feeling, the elven home felt just like paradise and only his sense of honor saw him leaving with the company when Thorin rousted them so early. He did sign the contract, after all, and he was duty-bound to complete its terms.

Bilbo didn't count on Bofur catching him at the cave's entrance, not one little bit. How could he explain his heartache to his friend? In trying to untangle his thoughts and unfamiliar emotions, he inadvertently bumbled into words which hurt his friend and confirmed his own belief that he shouldn't be there. In his distraction Bilbo never looked beyond Bofur's form to notice Thorin silently listening to their conversation, or his look of chagrin as the dwarf realized just how sharply his fear-driven words had cleaved.

All of Bilbo's worries soon were forgotten in favor of new shocks- disappearing floors, falling end over end through the mountain, and goblins in overwhelming numbers. As the company was mobbed by goblins, Bilbo found himself shoved to the ground by a heavy weight in a confusing kaleidoscope of short russet braids, swirling clothes, and large hands. "Stay down and hide!" was hissed in his ear before the protective dwarf was dragged off of him by clawing goblins. There were so many goblins covering the dwarf that it wasn't until he slashed several off with short knives that Bilbo learned the identity of his unexpected protector- Nori. Bilbo remained frozen on the ground and his small form was completely overlooked by the goblins in the fight that the dwarves were putting up. Even after the goblins passed, he remained pressed to the ground and let himself shiver with nerves for several precious seconds as horror crashed through him.

Soon after, he was too occupied with escaping a goblin, finding a ring, and then the pitiable yet disquieting creature in the bottom caverns as Bilbo tried to escape. Then things with the ring took an absolutely _bizarre_ turn. He didn't even feel the bone-deep bruises from his fall until after he'd dashed down the mountainside and stopped to catch his breath.

It was then that he was truly surprised, though, and that turned all his attention from his body's pained reports. Nori openly admitted to Gandalf and the entire company that he'd tried to look after Bilbo, had tried to keep him safe. Coming from a dwarf that Bilbo hadn't had maybe two conversations with, it shocked him enough that he didn't pay any attention to the emotion rising in his chest until something softly plinked against his vest and dropped down between his toes. With the oddly distorted sight granted by his new ring, Bilbo couldn't exactly tell the true color of the gem he bent down to pick up, but it still sparkled with a slight bluish color and he hurried to tuck it away as he overheard others worrying about whether he'd escaped the goblin tunnels or left for home.

He then gathered up his bravery and faced the company to let them know that he wasn't, in fact, dead. That night counted as one of the worst in Bilbo's life, even when he thought back to the Fell Winter and all that happened then, because they didn't get to stop for more than a moment before they were running again. Running and running and running until they ran out of ground to run on, and then they climbed. Bilbo didn't know what made him dart out to defend Thorin from the orcs, but he found his bruised body crashing into an orc all the same. Perhaps hobbits went a bit insane when exposed to sheer terror for long periods of time? Insane or not, it was still suicidal and very nearly got him killed until the eagles swooped in to effect their rescue. At that point Bilbo had been terrified for so long that he'd begun to go a bit numb to it all.

After Thorin hugged him on the Carrock and _apologized_ to him, Bilbo didn't know whether to check his own head for a concussion or ask Óin to check Thorin's. Could he possibly have heard right, that Thorin believed he had value? The dwarf's apology was a blissful salve to his spirit and Bilbo felt the emotions well up again, though he held them off until everyone had descended ahead of him off the face of the rock. Down his cheek dripped a tear to land perfectly in his waiting hand. He couldn't pause to examine it and stuffed the gem, made all the more precious for the event it commemorated, into his pouch to safely rest with Nori's.

Dwalin trudged back over the top of the rocky outcropping to see what was keeping him, concern actually showing on the exhausted warrior's face, and Bilbo startled to realize just how long he'd been standing in the fading light, thinking. "I'm sorry Master Dwalin, didn't mean to hold everyone up," he distractedly called as he scrambled to rejoin the company.

A large hand steadied him when he wobbled a bit on the uneven and deeply shadowed surface. "Don't fret yourself lad, we're all done in for. The wizard says there's a suitable cave at the bottom of this rock, so keep up for a while longer Master Baggins," he said and then fell back to rearguard position as they began moving again, Bilbo neatly tucked between Glóin in front and Dwalin behind. Even with exhaustion and pain making his toes drag heavily on the dark rock, he felt rather safe between those two large forms. It took until they were halfway down the steep steps for it to sink into his mind that those were the most words that Dwalin had said to him since showing up on his doorstep. A small glow of pleasure warmed the inside of his chest and pushed aside a bit of the weariness; maybe, just _maybe_, the others were beginning to warm up him?

Once they reached the cave, Gandalf was unceremoniously volunteered for the night's watch as he was the only one in any shape to do so. They set a fire near the cave's mouth for warmth and safety, and then everyone crowded together to sleep. They'd lost most of their bedrolls and blankets, and in their tiredness no one much cared to be fussy about personal boundaries. There was a comfort in curling up next to a friend and sharing the warmth given off by the other's body, an affirmation that they all survived the goblins and orcs even if they were more than a little battered around the edges. Bilbo was pulled to the middle of the group along with Fíli, Kíli, and Ori; the four shared a sleepy shrug at the antics of their elders but didn't bother complaining- the middle was the warmest spot of all and they weren't idiots. Fíli offered his overcoat as a pillow and as soon as Bilbo gratefully tucked it under his head, he was sound asleep.

Late morning found the dwarves stirring from their exhausted slumber with many a groan and mutter. Muscles and joints had stiffened while they slept and no one was in the mood to either rise or shine, though they managed to jostle each other awake as they moved. Bilbo blinked blearily as it took a few seconds for his eyes and mind to decipher that his improvised overcoat-pillow had apparently replaced itself with a thick tunic some time in the night, and why the tunic was moving. As soon as he realized that he was lying pillowed _on_ someone, Bilbo scrambled to sit upright and nearly knocked into Nori behind him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean," he began to apologize as embarrassment overrode his protesting muscles.

Nori and a now-awake Ori simply waved his words away. "Fíli woke hours ago so Gandalf sent him out to hunt for lunch, and I told him to move you," Ori explained why Bilbo lost his original pillow and awakened on the dwarf's stomach instead. "I didn't mind, honestly, and you were so tired that you slept through it all," he pressed on when Bilbo readied himself to apologize again.

"If no one's throwing curses or blades, then there's no need to apologize, Master Baggins," Nori counseled with a light pat to Bilbo's shoulder as the dwarf ambled out of the cave. Bilbo could see the stiffness in his stride which spoke of the very same sore muscles that everyone else seemed to feel, even if the other mostly succeeded in concealing his pain better than most.

Rising with a groan of his own, Bilbo joined the rest of the dwarves outside and genuinely tried to appreciate the beauty sprawling before his eyes. The river he'd briefly seen from the top of the rock wound its way partially around its base in a gentle curve and there was so much _green_. Not the same kind of green as in the Shire, but still far more than he'd seen since leaving his home and it even gave off a sense of peacefulness, as if the grass itself was proud to be growing in so beautiful a location. Bilbo closed his eyes and luxuriated in the feeling it gave off and in the feel of warm sunlight painting his upturned face. It painted the inside of his eyelids red and it couldn't have been more perfect after the dark horror of the goblin tunnels.

So focused on what he could read from the nature around him, Bilbo nearly leapt out of his skin when a hand landed on his shoulder. He twisted to see Nori standing at his left with a very abashed expression.

"Didn't mean to frighten," he said by way of apology and held out a freshly filled waterskin. "Thought you'd be thirsty and Gandalf claims that the waters here are healing."

Bilbo tasted a mouthful and decided that they'd had far worse so far on their trip. The water was clear but it had an odd aftertaste, like that of a mineral spring, and Bilbo decided to trust Gandalf's judgment on the matter. "If it's healing, then we'd better drown Thorin in it- his bruises and wounds are going to feel worse today and something tells me that he won't peacefully sit still to have them treated," he suggested.

Nori gave him a sly grin and a wink. "Óin and Dwalin are already seeing to Thorin." His words were punctuated by a bellow and loud splashing from the river, followed by several offended yelps and Óin's voice. Bilbo couldn't make out what was said, but the healer's voice was raised to cantankerous levels and he could imagine the fight that was going on.

"I think I'll stay right here and appreciate the green fields," Bilbo calmly stated and sat. Nori joined him on the ground and the two deliberately ignored the noise coming from the river; judging by the cheering and clapping that drifted their way, some of their companions weren't quite as discreet and had chosen to gawk instead.

Memory pushed at Bilbo and he hastily dug out the proper gem from his pouch before he turned to face Nori. "Master Nori, my people have a tradition of giving a small stone when asking someone to be their friend," he held out his hand to the suddenly very attentive dwarf and dropped the small round gem into his hand.

Nori held the gem up to let sunlight spill through it and Bilbo could see it for the first time- it was a light and clear blue of deep ice, but rather than sparkle like others he'd seen, this one seemed to have captured a rainbow inside for it flashed and shimmered with ribbons of color as the light was refracted. It was one of the most beautiful gems that he'd seen and Bilbo couldn't help but smile at it even as he missed where Nori hid it away on his person.

"No need to call me anything but my name," Nori brushed aside the formality and turned sharp eyes on Bilbo. "And I certainly accept your friendship, though I've never heard of such a custom."

Suddenly not quite as secure in his practiced lie, Bilbo hastened to explain. "Oh, it's not something that we often show outsiders, as not many spend time in the Shire. They're trinkets, really," he rushed under the scrutiny.

Nori seemed to know that the explanation wasn't quite truthful, but to Bilbo's relief he only nodded and didn't argue. "Then I'm doubly blessed to receive both your friendship and your token, Master Baggins, as I'll wager that your Shire has seen few dwarves cross through it."

"Only thirteen who chose to invade my smial and demolish my pantry," Bilbo wryly commented. "And please, call me Bilbo- hearing 'Master Baggins' all day long does become rather wearying on the ears," he sighed.

"It shouldn't be so bad now that you've got the two twits calling you by your first name- Fíli and Kíli can drive even the Valar to distraction, so I don't know how you stood it for so long…" Nori started to comment but was cut off as a furious Thorin stomped behind them, going from river to cave.

His hair was weighted down against his head with water and he still moved stiffly, though it looked like either the water had helped or Óin and Dwalin had managed to deaden the pain from his midsection as he moved better than Bilbo expected. His face, however, was a scowling thundercloud of wounded pride and the two merely kept still and quiet until he passed.

"At least they got him out of that coat," Nori spoke low as he tried not to snicker.

"And into a fresh shirt," Bilbo leaned in to likewise whisper as they both observed the obviously borrowed and too small shirt.

Now that they could venture into the river without risking life and limb, Bilbo and Nori made their way upstream of the churned-up area to do their own washing. The thought of just how far he'd come struck Bilbo as he was finishing- it felt great to be clean, and he was happy to wash up, all without a speck of hot water. Months ago, he'd have refused to even go near the river; he was washing his nude body within eyesight of another person, with very cold water (even if the dwarves didn't feel the cold in the same way that he did), and he was having to make do with a handful of fine rock sand to scour his skin as they had no proper soap. Months ago he would have kicked up a riot and absolutely refused. Now, though, he calmly did the same as the others and went about his cleaning.

So buried in his musing, Bilbo didn't hear the footsteps until they were directly behind him and turned sharply. Thorin stood on the riverbank, eyes carefully averted, with a small pile of clothes folded in his hands. "Kíli managed to save his pack and these should fit while yours dry. They shouldn't be too terribly big," he offered.

"Thank you," Bilbo said emphatically as he took the clothes. "It'll feel heavenly to rinse the stench of the tunnels and smoke out of my clothes. And please thank Kíli for the loan," he made sure to include in his gratitude.

Thorin nodded and left him to his bathing before it became awkward, and Bilbo was quite thankful to see that the dwarf had come out of his sulk at being forced into having his wounds treated. Between his nosy neighbors and the dwarves, he truly wasn't surprised anymore when grown adults acted more immature than fauntlings. Bilbo shivered his way into the clean, clothes and pulled the leather belt tight before he crouched to thoroughly rinse his very battered and smelly clothing in the river. Without soap, the water and a good airing would just have to do.

Bilbo brought his clothes over to the rocky outcropping near the cave and laid them out amongst all the other garments spread to catch the sun. His stomach growled and pinched to remind him that he hadn't eaten even breakfast, much less any of the other meals that day, and he turned towards the cave to see if lunch was ready. He pushed aside the nagging reminder in his head that he needed to give Thorin his gem and vowed to watch for a good opportunity for it- with the possibility of food, the company was gathered in the space around the cave and he wouldn't have any privacy at all for it. Bilbo was already violating enough of his teachings by giving the gems to outsiders; he couldn't bring himself to break further taboo by doing it in front of witnesses, even if seven of them carried his gems. It would just have to wait for a better time. Bilbo unconsciously patted his little gem pouch and scooted inside to check on lunch.


	6. Turquoise

Bilbo truly didn't enjoy the trek through the woods and fields to Beorn's house, but if nothing else it did loosen his stiff and aching body. He hadn't had a single opportunity to give Thorin his gem and the negligence weighed heavily on his mind; so heavily in fact that even Gandalf noticed and called him away from where Thorin had, inexplicably to Bilbo, asked him to travel near the head of their pack with himself and Dwalin. Never had the hobbit felt more out of place and he was honestly relieved to hear Gandalf's summons and trot to the back of the line to see what the wizard wanted.

Upon finding out, however, he wished to be anywhere else. "No, I certainly will not!" he hissed, barely loud enough to carry to Gandalf's sharp ears.

"But why not, dear boy? I dare say that you can trust these dwarves with the secret..."

"You can't possibly know that," Bilbo cut him off abruptly and glared. "You know our history as well as I do, and we both know that dwarves will go to great lengths to acquire precious stones. I'm not willing to take the chance- I'm not the only one I have to consider. Entire bloodlines were lost, villages were _emptied_, due to greed and I can't take a chance on that happening again because I had loose lips!" His fists, held so rigidly at his side, were tight enough that disgracefully ragged nails prickled painfully into his palms. Bilbo couldn't even look at Gandalf and furiously sped up to walk in the middle of the line, safely away from both the dangerously infuriating wizard and the newly confounding Thorin. He ended up beside Dori and that suited him just fine for although the dwarf was a bit of a pessimist, he also gave off a calming air that right now Bilbo could dearly use lest he lose the very tenuous hold on his temper. And, if he was honest with himself, he could also use a bit of soothing for the very deep-seated terror which Gandalf's proposal had raised.

From the corner of his eye, Bilbo could see Dori carefully survey him, but the dwarf kindly kept his own words and their day's walk was a comfortingly silent one. In front of them, Bilbo noticed that though Nori and Ori were in deep conversation, Nori's head would periodically turn, ever so slightly, to cast an ear back and wondered if the secretive dwarf was trying to keep track of them. He didn't know what to make of it and so decided to ignore the odd behavior; perhaps he was simply waiting for Bilbo to strike up a conversation with Dori to see if he wanted to join in? Besides, he wasn't in any mood to spark a conversation.

By the time they reached Beorn's house at dusk, most of Bilbo's anger had worn down to irritation but the fear remained roiling just under the surface just enough to make his stomach uneasy. He knew his history better than most hobbits as his mother was daughter to the Thain, the guardian of their history, and made sure that young Bilbo learned _everything_. It was terrifying for a young fauntlings to learn of such vile things, but she reasoned that her Took contribution to his spirit would eventually send him adventuring, and that he'd be better served to know than to not. Ignorant hobbits didn't come back from adventures and Belladonna Baggins nee Took refused to allow that fate for her only son.

He wasn't much company that night, despite Beorn's repeated attempts to draw 'bunny' into interaction, and Bilbo retreated to set up his bedroll by the fireplace as soon as it wouldn't be considered too impolite to leave the long table. It did catch him horribly by surprise, however, when another bedroll whumped down next to his and _Dori_ of all dwarves fussily arranged a backrest of hay to sit back against. Bilbo hastily looked away to tend his own blankets as he realized that he was staring.

"Will be rather pleasant to have a soft bed and a roof over our heads, wouldn't you agree Master Baggins?" Dori called over quietly once Bilbo had settled himself in to sit, blankets across his legs and back against a fragrant pile of hay.

"Goodness, yes," Bilbo agreed. "It certainly is far better than sleeping in the wet, or on rocks, or with the tree roots poking everywhere."

Dori's low chuckles interrupted Bilbo's tirade. "Aye, I think that only rangers are insane enough to actually prefer sleeping out in the wild to the comforts of civilization," he agreed. "Would you care for tea?"

Bilbo finally looked away from the fire to accept the proffered mug of clover tea that Dori preferred. In his distraction, he hadn't noticed that the other had brought along a kettle and mugs along with his bedroll and blankets. The two sipped the sweet, clean-tasting tea in silence and Bilbo felt both the anger and fear finally let go their hold on him, leaving only a wrung exhaustion in their wake.

"Now, do you want to tell me what had you in such a state? Sometimes it helps to talk things out, and I don't mind offering an ear to listen if you've a need," Dori calmly offered.

Unease immediately curled in Bilbo's stomach. He didn't mistrust Dori, he didn't exactly mistrust _any_ of the dwarves, but he absolutely could not talk about any of it. He decided to hedge a bit. "There truly is not much to tell, Master Dori, only that Gandalf wished to speak about topics which my people hold secret and I became upset with him," Bilbo tried to explain.

"Well, our wizard does love to poke about where gentle folk know better," Dori nodded sagely and refilled Bilbo's mug before topping off his own. "He even seems to know of the secrets which we dwarves keep, and doesn't that drive Thorin to anger every time he reveals something he oughtn't to know," he chuckled again, and Bilbo presumed it was at memories of Thorin scolding the wizard.

The two sat in silence again while behind them their companions still laughed and chattered loudly after Beorn stepped outside for the night. Good food and ample mead helped loosen their spirits; a long time on the trail, goblin town, and the encounter with Azog had left them all rather ragged and the opportunity to relax in safety couldn't be more welcome.

Dori shifted about a bit to partially face Bilbo and resettled himself against the hay. "If you don't wish to talk, then would you rather read a bit from the little book you carry? It's always helped Ori to use other words whenever he can't speak of what's bothering him."

"I think that would be lovely, thank you." Bilbo pulled the now tattered little book of poems out of his inner jacket pocket and let the rhythms of his favorite verses soothe away the last of his emotions. Hobbits couldn't cry to release built up anger and so it had cut like jagged shards of glass in his chest until he'd been able to calm the volatile emotion. Dori's presence greatly helped, both during the day and now by the fire, as he was calm and solid and seemed to know just what Bilbo needed most.

After three poems, Bilbo's throat was as dry as kindling and he couldn't continue. "I'm sorry, this is the most reading I've done since my cousin's birthday last year and I'm too long out of practice," he apologized and held the book out to the dwarf. "Would you continue, please?"

For the first time, Bilbo saw Dori display something other than kindness or stubbornness. He appeared to be incredibly uncomfortable, as if Bilbo had asked him to do something shameful rather than read from a book, and he slowly took his book back in bewilderment.

"I would love to, lad, but I cannot read enough common to make it through a single one of your poems," Dori admitted slowly, shame coloring his face with a flush that had nothing to do with the fire's heat. Bilbo knew enough about dwarves to know that, to know their maker created them to be especially hardy against fire, and so that left abject _shame_ as the reason for the color across his face.

Bilbo nearly reached out to pat the dwarf's arm in comfort but remembered himself just in time. He didn't want to further alienate this dwarf who he could possibly call friend, for certainly Dori had appeared to be making friendly overtures to him. Bilbo remembered a bit of information that Ori had casually dropped in conversation back in Rivendell. "You've made sure that Ori can read and write, and there's honor in that, Master Dori. Besides, many of my peers in the Shire can barely read or write past what they absolutely must know for their trades; I was lucky in that I learned from my mother as a faunt."

A fond look crossed Dori's face at the mention of his youngest brother. "Aye, it was most difficult to manage, what with our finances in the beginning, but I made sure that Ori had tutors to learn his words. By the time that we were stable enough that I could spare the time and coin, I had waited far too long to learn easily. I do know enough that Ori hasn't guessed; he doesn't quite know, and I've not told him," Dori turned a sharpish look at Bilbo.

"He'll not find out from me," he pledged. "Actually, if you'd like, I can try to help you out a bit. Just at night when we're stopped and everyone else is occupied."

"And how would you go about that, Master Baggins? We don't exactly have the slates and books that Ori's tutors carried," Dori challenged, though he did look intrigued and it encouraged Bilbo.

He held up his little book of poems. "We can use the poems. I'll see if your brother will let me borrow his writing supplies, and then I'll copy out one of the poems. If I read it off to you, do you think that you can translate it into your own language and write it beside my copy?"

Dori caught on quickly to Bilbo's idea. "I would have to be very careful with the pages, as our language is one of our secrets, but perhaps that could work- having the same poem in both so that I can study the words." He seemed more enthusiastic and much brighter in spirit than he had minutes ago.

Quickly sliding to his feet, Bilbo trotted over to obtain writing materials from Ori. The young dwarf didn't even think twice at granting the request, and Bilbo didn't question whether it was trust or merely a sufficient amount of ale which led to his compliance. Nori's too-perceptive gaze followed him all the way back to the fire, and Bilbo felt it nearly as a physical touch on his back. Nori made it readily apparent without words that Dori wasn't the only protective dwarf of the three brothers.

It was only the quick work of a few minutes to copy out one of the shorter poems, only two stanzas, into medium sized block print and Bilbo felt a wave of nostalgia creep through his heart at the sight. He spent many afternoons as a child printing the teaching ballads in much the same fashion. Bilbo handed the writing materials over to Dori and very carefully did not watch the dwarf write as Bilbo read the book's poem aloud. He well understood secrets and would try to keep his eyes off the dwarven language as much as possible to repay the respect Dori showed for _his_ secrets.

Bilbo returned the writing materials to Ori's pack once Dori finished, and returned to find Dori closely examining the parchment by the fire's light. "I believe that this may help, Master Baggins, as I do already know a fair few of these words already. May I question you later if I need to clarify a particular meaning or usage?" he asked.

"Certainly, and please call me Bilbo. If I'm to be helping you, then I don't need the formality," Bilbo invited.

Dori appeared surprised before he gave a small smile. "Then in return you must use my name…" he appeared to want to say something else, but was interrupted by a host of loud and very drunk dwarves trying to set up their bedrolls. The rest of the company had given up their feasting, Bilbo suspected it was more to do with the fact that too few of them were still conscious than any realization of the late hour, and were turning in for the night. Dori hurriedly folded the parchment and tucked it away into an inner pocket of his gambeson with a nod of thanks, nearly a bow, to Bilbo.

Caught by the gesture, and his knowledge of the respect it offered, Bilbo felt emotion rise to tighten his throat as he curled up in his bedroll. He carefully turned his face away from the light and let the feeling reign, almost rejoicing in the tear that slipped from the corner of his eye and across the bridge of his nose. It fell to pat nearly silently onto his bedroll and Bilbo tucked it away in his pouch for the night.

The next morning he awoke well before twelve snoring dwarves though the bedroll beside him, Dori's, was empty and tidily rolled up. Bilbo cleaned up his own roll and blankets before he made a quick detour to the washroom for his morning ablutions. Once finished, he was nudged by a large black dog onto the back porch where he discovered both Dori and a small table of fragrant breakfast food.

"Going to be quite a few sore heads this morning," he idly commented as he piled a plate with three kinds of eggs, cheeses, and scones. His mouth watered for pieces of lovely crunchy bacon, but there was not a single piece of meat on the entire table, nor had there been any for last night's dinner.

Dori looked like he was suppressing the urge to snort. "If there are any, then they certainly deserve them. They all know better and can deal with the consequences," he stated bluntly.

Bilbo gave in to the urge to laugh, Dori's rumbling chuckles joining in. "Oh, I have something for you," Bilbo prompted as he laid down his fork to dig the gem out of his pouch. He wouldn't get a better opportunity than right now to do this, and he didn't know how much longer the two of them would be alone before any of the others awakened to join them. "I consider you as a friend, Dori, and my people give these gems as a mark of our friendship." Bilbo looked at the small gem before he handed it to the surprised dwarf. It was a very light and odd shade of blue, from what he saw of it, and it looked just like the turquoise stones that his mother used to have in her Market Day necklace.

Dori held it up so that he could see it better in the light and Bilbo confirmed for himself that it definitely was a turquoise color, for all that it glimmered inside like a cat's eye as the light hit it. "This is, this is a fine gift in deed, Bilbo," Dori whispered. "Is this one of your secrets?" he asked as he turned his knowing gaze to Bilbo.

As he busied himself with his plate to buy time before answering, Bilbo missed seeing where the gem was hidden on Dori's person, but it was out of sight by the time he looked back up. "I shouldn't even answer that question, but yes- it's a secret of my people and I ask that you never show that gem to any other hobbit; we exchange them between ourselves, but never outsiders."

Dori nodded seriously as he accepted the weight of Bilbo's words. "Then I'll treat it as the treasure it is," he vowed. He then dug into his belt pouch to pull out a tiny piece of metal and dropped it into Bilbo's hand. "This, lad, is a talisman and a mark of my gratitude for help you're giving me. None other than my brothers have been so generous, and it's with pride that I can call you…" Dori broke himself off with a twist of his lips, "Well I cannot tell you the word for it, but you are more than friend, though not quite kin. Perhaps one day Thorin will allow you to be taught our language, and then _I_ will be the one teaching _you_."

Laughter bubbled up before Bilbo could censor it. "I think I would love that, Dori!" he enthusiastically replied as he looked over the small talisman. It was a small disk of gold, about the size of his thumbnail, which had what he assumed to be a sapphire set in the center. Runes ringed the stone and he dearly wished to know what they meant, though he knew better than to ask. "What does a talisman mean, exactly?" he asked instead.

"This is one which I crafted, and it won't harm anything for you to know that those letters spell out my name. It's simply a piece to bring good luck, and it shows you to be in good favor should you ever need it," Dori explained.

Bilbo sincerely thanked him, very touched at the sentiment offered in the little talisman, and tucked it into his pouch for safekeeping. Soon after, very grumpy dwarves interrupted the morning's peace and Bilbo retreated to avoid the growling and grumbling as sour stomachs and sore heads certainly didn't sweeten dwarven tempers. Somehow, though, he never found the right time to give Thorin his gem- Bilbo was called over to smoke with Thorin several times, but there were always too many dwarves milling about to have privacy. Guilt nipped at him, but he promised himself that _later_, later he'd find the perfect time.


	7. Prussian

Bilbo truly, _truly_, wished that he could go back to Beorn's. He'd even put up with being called 'bunny' and willingly forget that he'd had any other name if it got him out of this forsaken forest. This place wasn't natural at all, for all that it had trees growing in it, and simply walking into it, for a creature of Yavanna, felt like being wrapped under layers of suffocating wet burlap. Even their wizard had left them without his presence in this nightmarish place, to stumble through it on their own. A bump at his shoulder pulled Bilbo out of his spiraling thoughts and he looked over at Ori with a gasp.

"Can you feel it more than we can, Master Baggins?" Ori quietly asked as they walked along the gloomy trail through the aptly named Mirkwood. A week of slow walking, as slow was all that they could manage through the forest's perpetual twilight and overgrowth, had worn on them all and sullen dwarves huddled into their cloaks, shoulders hunched instinctively against the air's sinister feel. Even Thorin's odd habit of calling Bilbo forward to walk with him and Dwalin, or him and Balin, had loosened in the pervading murk.

Bilbo swallowed a couple of times to wet his mouth enough to talk as rationing had left him feeling parched. "Oh yes," he couldn't help but whisper as his eyes darted up into the ruined canopy, "we were made to feel the growing things, the sun and the wind, and this place is the most profane perversion of that." He had Ori's complete attention, and the dwarf was polite enough not to interrupt with questions. "The trees grow, but they're twisted things which turn towards shadow and away from the light. The very air is foul like a poison, and there is no breath of wind to stir it. Nothing good grows here, nothing of Yavanna's glory," Bilbo shivered and hunched in on himself. Ori gently leaned against him as they walked and shared his warmth, and more importantly, shared the comfort of his presence.

"I can't feel all that," Ori started, "but I can feel the ground and stone. My feet tell me that there's no life under us, nothing whispering to be discovered, and the stones are tortured things who have no voices left to speak with. Their silence makes me want to cry," Ori admitted with his own whisper, as if ashamed of his response.

As silence fell again, Bilbo gently bumped Ori's shoulder to offer comfort and got a tiny smile in return. That night, rather than sleep near the outskirts of the group as was his habit, Bilbo took a chance and set up his bedroll between Bofur and Dori's family clusters. He got a welcoming pat on the shoulder from Bifur, who noticed him first, received an approving nod from Nori, and felt something tight in his chest unclench. He hadn't been certain that his friends would all wish to remain openly friendly, especially in this dark place, and had been keeping his distance to not stretch the tenuous ties of friendship lest they broke. It seemed, though, that his heart had chosen well and those who carried his gems may just be true friends after all. Bilbo relished the warmth of friendship and the feeling of one less burden pressing on his battered spirit.

Perplexingly, Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin also decided to bed down nearby instead of with their normal group. Bilbo gave them a confused smile of welcome and turned his attention back to his thin soup. Dwarves were confusing on the best of days, and right now he just didn't have the energy to spare in figuring them out.

Four days later even Ori's gentle shoulder bumps couldn't lift Bilbo's spirits enough to garner a smile. He felt the forest's vile darkness press down on him like a terrible weight, a depression which dulled the spark of his mind and shredded his earth sense. He trod along in the middle of the pack of dwarves in a fog.

"Master Baggins?" Ori's voice dragged Bilbo out of his own head, and sounded like he'd been calling Bilbo's name for quite some time.

"Yes, Master Ori?" he managed to mumble through a jaw stiff from being clenched tight against his misery.

"Oh, you don't… please just use my name?" Ori stammered. "Master's for dwarves like Dori, and I'm not that old yet."

It took Bilbo a few minutes of walking before the tiny joke sunk in and he gave a tiny chuckle.

Ori brightened as his plan met with success. "There now, that's better!" he cheered and Bilbo made an effort to be more aware.

As he looked up to take notice of more than just his feet trudging over the overgrown path, he caught Bombur moving back from his side and a flash of light hair brought his attention forward to catch Thorin turn forward as Fíli wove through the dwarves to walk by his uncle's side. Bilbo breathed deeply to push aside the urge to cry as their actions caught up to him- he hadn't been paying any attention to where he'd been walking, but his friends had gathered around to make sure that he never stumbled or strayed off the path. The emotions in his chest beat back the dead feeling from his earth sense and warmed him.

"I wanted to thank you for what you've done for Nori," Ori whispered to Bilbo once the other dwarves had moved back to their normal walking distance. "Too many judge without bothering to get to know my brother, and your friendship truly touched him. He won't say it himself, but both Dori and I appreciate your generous heart."

"Nori's a good dwarf, even if he has a few 'odd habits'," Bilbo reassured the young dwarf, and meant every word. He'd already overheard talk that Nori was a thief, a scoundrel, but he had been nothing less than generous to Bilbo during the journey and he couldn't judge another based solely on rumor.

Ori was quick to rebut Bilbo's beliefs. "Oh, but he's not actually a thief, he's…" he started to say, then cut himself off in a hurry and jammed his hand over his mouth, eyes wide at the near slip. Ori uncovered his mouth after a second and apologized to Bilbo, that what he nearly said was a secret that wasn't his to say.

Understanding of secrets was certainly something that Bilbo was a master at. "It's quite alright, Ori, no harm done. I already think well of your brother no matter what he does so it doesn't change a thing really," he hastened to reassure, and searched for a change of subject. "What kind of ink do you use? I've noticed that its scent is different from what I'm used to using, myself," Bilbo finally hit upon a topic which lit up Ori's eyes and started a torrent of words spilling out.

Hours later, he had been fully educated on the manufacture, upkeep, variations, and foibles of dwarven ink. It was nothing like the inks which hobbits preferred, being made from iron salts, and it was one of the reasons why Ori was included in the company. Their ink, when left on the preciously expensive processed paper for very long periods without care, would actually _eat_ the paper under the letters; the ink itself would fade to a rusty brown as well. Ori's main job, aside from documenting their trials along the journey, would be in Erebor's grand library itself- he was to locate and begin restoration of the mountain's treaties with the other dwarven kingdoms as well as all of the signed allegiance scrolls. If they were to call for aid from their brethren, those treaties and scrolls would be their only proof of what Erebor was owed. Ori had alluded to a treaty which the elves broke, but refused to elaborate and instead begged Bilbo to ask Thorin about it instead.

In return for Ori's information, and indeed giving in to the dwarf's pleading eyes, Bilbo shared with the scribe what he knew about Shire inks. Hobbits preferred ink made with soot and animal glue as it never faded or destroyed anything it was written on. The high quality paper was saved for important documents, but Bilbo regularly used a yellow, low quality, paper for his personal correspondence; the ink worked perfectly well on the paper, and one only had to mind not to smudge the writing when it was damp out as the ink didn't truly 'dry' out. He also informed Ori that their printing presses, for books, used a different mixture altogether, but that it was a closely guarded printers' secret and no one knew what the formula was. By the time they finished their engrossing discussion, hours passed unmarked and camp was being struck for the night.

That night Bilbo felt better than he had in far too many nights and looked for a chance to pull Thorin aside to give him his gem. He tried to catch the dwarf as Bombur was making dinner, but Fíli and Kíli insisted on giving their report on the trail ahead. After dinner he tried again but was thwarted when Dwalin insisted on sitting first watch with Thorin and Bilbo was gently shooed back to his bedroll with the admonition that he appeared far too tired to stay up half the night. He gave in as gracefully as possible.

Curled up with his blanked around him, this time tucked between Bofur and Kíli, Bilbo let the warm emotions kindle themselves in his heart and caught the tear which they produced. He knew it was for Ori, for the youngest dwarf who managed to be so wise and compassionate as to reach out to draw a miserable hobbit from his suffering. Bilbo held the gem low so that no one else could see it and examined the small round miracle by the fire's light. It didn't glimmer, sparkle, or shine, at least until the light hit it just right. As a bit of flame flared higher, Bilbo was amazed to see the gem nearly glow from within with a beautifully deep color. It was a color he knew well- his mother used to paint, loved walking half the day to find just the perfect meadow or stream to serve as her subject, and Bilbo had particularly enjoyed one of the shades of blue that she used to mix. Belladonna had explained that it was called Prussian, Prussian blue, and this glowing gem could have been a drop of that same exact paint.

He tucked the gem into his pouch and settled it on his chest, against his heart, as he let the happy memories of painting with his mother soothe him to sleep. It was the best night's sleep that he had yet in this dark place.

Morning saw Bilbo and Ori sent back along yesterday's trail to pick up deadwood for the morning's fire as Thorin granted them a very rare warm breakfast. Not looking twice at the unexpected gift, both scurried down the dusky trail to fill their arms with twigs and sticks.

Bilbo took the chance to carefully watch, and once they were out of sight of the company, he pulled Ori to a stop. "Ori, I wanted to give something to you in the traditions of my people as a sign of our friendship, and ask you to call me by my name if you would," he explained as his fingers followed the now-familiar actions of digging out his gem pouch and pulling out the appropriate gem.

Ori quickly placed his armload of wood on the trail to free his hands and accepted the tiny gem. There was just enough light even in the dim Mirkwood to make it glow in Ori's gloved hand. "That's so beautiful," he breathed, "what kind of stone is it?"

"It's just a gem that's found in the Shire. We give them to our friends, but they're meant to be kept between hobbits, so they're a bit of a secret," he warned Ori, not quite sure why he said that last part. It could have been because he already told others that it was a secret or possibly because Ori knew the burden of keeping secrets and would understand.

Either way, it drew the dwarf's eyes away from the gem to scrutinize Bilbo. His hand curled protectively over the gem even as he spoke. "I don't think that's quite right Ma- Bilbo," he boldly stated. "I think there's quite a bit more to it than that, and I don't mind you not telling me, but please don't call this 'just a gem'. We can sense stone, and gems are another kind of stone even if they're very pretty. This gem doesn't feel like a stone- it feels _special_." Ori breathed the word reverently as he opened his fingers to look upon the gem again.

The obvious care and admiration shown to his gem made the breath catch in Bilbo's throat. Hobbits typically didn't treat friendship gems with this much care as they were simple gems to make and everyone made loads to exchange with their friends. They were special to Bilbo, however, as before the dwarves came he hadn't had a friend since he'd barely become an adult. Every tear now was a minor miracle. "No, you're perfectly correct, it is more than that. It's just not something that I can talk about," Bilbo confirmed an apologized.

"All the same, I'm honored to be gifted with one, and even more honored that you call me friend Bilbo." Ori stepped forward to quickly give him a hug and then backed away with a light blush at his impetuous action. He quickly pulled off one of his forearm-covering mittens to reveal a leather bracelet; the bracelet turned out to be a clever hiding spot which covered a small iron tube which Ori slipped the gem into. The tube was then stoppered, the bracelet strapped back into place, and the mitten tugged over it all to hide everything from sight once again.

Bilbo couldn't stop himself this time. "Why such an elaborate hiding place?" he asked.

To his credit, Ori didn't fuss at the slightly rude question or even pause before answering. "Dori made it for me. He said that when they were wandering from Erebor, the only way that they could keep anything valuable was if it was hidden on their bodies out of sight. Gear could be lost, and thieves could steal from packs, but nothing could be taken from the body without the owner's knowledge," he explained.

"Oh, that really does make sense; especially with this mess of a journey, where we've already lost most of our packs."

Ori nodded and grimaced at the thought of _how_ those packs had been lost. "I definitely see the value of it now, but don't you go telling him that. I'll never hear the end of it!"

They shared a small laugh and gathered the firewood, aware that they'd been gone more than long enough already and that others would seek them if they tarried longer. Still, the brief encounter left Bilbo's spirit lighter and he felt better able to face the day. Perhaps passing on a gift from Yavanna had brought a bit of her grace to shine upon the desolate forest.

Bilbo couldn't know it, but their luck was soon to turn far more sour and the darkness would close in to swallow them all. Even the elves, beings of light, were effected by the evil in their forest and proved to be cruel hosts. After giant spiders, Bilbo truly didn't have the energy to figure out how to deal with a dark-hearted Elvenking, or how to cope with thirteen dwarves locked in an elven dungeon, but it didn't appear that he had much choice in the matter.


	8. Robin's Egg

This should have been split into two parts to keep with my normal chapter size, but I couldn't find a good spot for it, and the pesky dwarves and hobbit just wouldn't cooperate! So instead, my dear readers, you get a treat :) See how many book Easter Eggs you can find in the chapter, as I liberally mixed book!canon, movie!canon, and head!canon together in the blender (less of the movie for this one)- they're not all used in the same context, and some are incredibly subtle...

* * *

Well-used to the maze of smials and thoroughfares that made up all parts of the Shire, Bilbo felt that he performed admirably in exploring Thranduil's palace without getting himself lost or caught during the week he searched for his dwarves.

The first night, he managed to stumble into a dead end corridor which seemed to host private quarters and curled up beneath a table to keep himself from being trodden upon. It was an exhausted sleep filled with shivery terrors and more than once he roused from the nightmarish vision of his friends slaughtered by the spiders. Morning leaves him only slightly less tired than he went to sleep, though less terrorized, and he continues exploring.

Baths are the next discovery and Bilbo could have cried with relief if it wouldn't have attracted attention from the sharp-eared elves. Travel, fighting spiders, climbing up and down trees, and fighting all meant that he was positively _ripe_. More used to traveling than he was at the beginning of their journey, he still found his own stench to be repugnant, and he was rather sure that at some point his odor would alert the elves. Bilbo kept a watch on the baths for two full days before he determined that no one visited at night; on the second night, he blissfully bathed with actual soap, a real flannel cloth, and only slightly cool water as he couldn't risk kindling the fire for hot water. It felt heavenly beyond belief and he nearly fell asleep in the massive bathtub; only the ring, which he kept hooked on the end of his finger for safety in case he needed to be unexpectedly invisible, slipping down to tap against the side of the copper tub startled him back to wakefulness from a hazy drowse. Even as he had to dress in his filthy clothes it still couldn't dispel his pleasure in having clean hair and clean fingernails.

Then, on the fifth night, Bilbo discovered a treasure beyond treasures. He found another wing of sleeping quarters, quite a bit grander than the others as they belonged to the great Elvenking himself, and he couldn't help himself, truly; once he saw them, he just had to snatch them all up and stuff them in a lump deep into his pants pocket. Bilbo took a bit of guilty revenge upon the elf by living up to his contractual title- he burgled the greatest treasure from Thranduil's wardrobe… _handkerchiefs_. They were the silkiest material that Bilbo had ever handled, delicately embroidered with a bouquet of leaves dancing across their edges, and worth far more to him than their weight in gold or diamonds. He loved Bofur dearly, especially as the dwarf had proven to be a true friend, but now he could blow his nose without chafing the poor thing raw!

Finding the kitchens was both easy and vexing. He found them in the first day simply by following his well-trained nose, for the air circulated very well in the palace and his empty belly provided all the incentive he could possibly want. Bilbo found them vexing as, standing outside the door's frame and looking in, he could easily see that he couldn't steal a single bite from any of the counters- the spaces between were far too crowded, as elves were busy cooking, and though he was invisible he certainly wasn't a ghost. A good bump and he'd quickly be found out as one doesn't just run into solid air. Hope came in the door next to the kitchen, the wet larder. It wasn't ideal, but he helped himself judiciously to the raw vegetables in bins, and filched brined fish from the barrels along the outside wall. It all went into his inner jacket pocket to eat later, despite his cringe at the thought of _food in a pocket_. His lingering sadness was that he didn't have a proper knife to slice any of the large wheels of damp-loving cheeses which the elves kept on wooden shelves. He absolutely would not degrade Sting by turning it into a dining utensil, of all things, and resigned himself to doing without. Another food he did without was meat- the wet larder held the kitchen's supply of raw meat, as it was the cold pantry, but he couldn't find where the elves kept their dry larder and the smoked meats. It also meant no bread, but he'd become accustomed to doing without baked goods while on the trail and didn't miss it quite as much.

It was a week into his illicit stay at the palace before he happened upon just the right cellar door and found new levels belowground to explore. One level contained only locked doors, though one thick metal door was twisted horribly, nearly off of its hinges, and he marveled at whatever force caused the destruction. Bilbo couldn't resist peeking inside but the large room was completely bare save for a bit of straw scuffled into the corners. He shrugged and lost interest in favor of exploring the next level down.

The next level proved to be far more extensive, and far more profitable. Bilbo crept carefully down the wide steps, his feet soundless on the worn stone, and found himself in what looked like a massive stone cellar of sorts. The ceiling was rounded above him and corridors led off to the left and right, adequately lit by mounted baskets of some sort of glowing moss which the elves seemed to prefer to torches underground. He dithered a bit while deciding which way to turn before footsteps off to his right decided the matter and sent him scurrying to the left.

Not far past the stairs he came to a corridor with the most curious silver placard mounted onto the stone. Bilbo could easily read Sindarin, and the language vaguely appeared to be some variant of it, yet wasn't. He mentally marked that for all the squiggles, it had a capital T with three funny little hairs on top, and turned left to explore. He passed iron-barred door after door, all with their own smaller silver placards placed just to the right of the doorway, but when he peeked inside to see what sort of treasure deserved such stringent defense Bilbo was rather disappointed to see only plain brown barrels.

At the end of the corridor, though, he found a true treasure- Dori. "Dori!" Bilbo whispered through the thick metal bars, mindful of the footsteps he'd heard behind him not that long before.

His friend rushed up to the bars and frantically looked up and down the corridor, and Bilbo carefully removed his ring. "Oh, praise Mahal, you're alive!" Dori breathed with relief and sagged against the bars.

Bilbo gently tugged on one of the wisps of hair which had escaped Dori's once careful braids and poked through the bars. "Of course I'm alive, it'll take more than a few overgrown spiders to kill off this Baggins," he bluffed to see his friend lose the stricken look and laugh.

Dori conceded his point and then asked if he'd managed to locate any of the others, particularly his brothers and Thorin. Bilbo admitted that Dori was the first dwarf found, though he'd only started looking on this level. "Then I won't keep you any longer, my friend, and only ask that you come by when convenient- keeping one's company becomes rather lonesome after a while," Dori admitted.

As that was a sentiment he could heartily agree with, Bilbo vowed to come by again once he'd found everyone and slipped his ring back on to move on. As he left Dori's corridor, Bilbo again looked at the placard and firmly memorized the odd little shape so that if he ever got turned around, he would remember which corridor housed his friend.

Straight ahead was another corridor and Bilbo checked up and down the main walkway to verify that no one would run into him before he darted across. He examined this corridor's placard and memorized the odd upside down y that it had on the end before he moved on to check each room carefully. This one yielded the same barrels as the last, though from the fragrance in the air and varieties of words on the placards Bilbo could safely assume that they were different vintages of wines. In the middle of this hallway he found another dwarf, Balin, who seemed to be just as worried as Dori had been.

It took several minutes to calm Balin and reassure him that Bilbo would continue on to seek out the rest of their companions, Thorin, and would certainly do his best to keep himself safe. Bilbo continued on, from one end of the long walkway to the other, and managed to find twelve of his dwarves… but not Thorin. He spent the rest of that night running messages from one family member to the other, ever sympathetic to their horror of being separated, until he quite literally couldn't take another step.

"Sit yourself down, lad, before you fall down," Óin grumbled when Bilbo shambled over to give him his brother's reassurances. "And no need to shout, I'm not deaf in the other ear," he corrected when Bilbo drew breath and braced himself to deliver the message at volume.

Caught a bit off guard, it took Bilbo a moment to collect himself and try again. "Oh, I apologize. Um, Glóin says that the elves put some sort of powder on the cut on his arm which made it stop bleeding and gave him bandages to wrap it."

Óin's response was cut off when Bilbo crammed the ring onto his finger at the first scuff of a footstep as an elf appeared in their corridor, carrying a try, and Bilbo had to hurriedly back away from the cell. The elf ordered Óin to step to the rear of the room, opened the door, and laid the tray on the floor before he locked the door again. Efficient as the elf was, it only took a few minutes before they were alone again and it was safe to remove the ring.

"Least they don't plan to starve us after what we did," Óin idly commented as he poked around the food.

Bilbo looked up from his captivated examination of the meat, bread, and fruit. "Wait, what did you do?" he asked as the comment caught up to him.

"We were originally all in one room together," Óin explained, shooting him a look, "but we had no intention of remaining their 'guests' and several of us worked together to bring down the metal door. They didn't quite appreciate that, so we got these new accommodations," he gestured at his smaller and solitary cell.

The twisted door upstairs made much more sense, especially as Bilbo had read legends of dwarven strength. It still was rather startling to see evidence of the tales of his youth coming to life. He was startled out of his thoughts by a chunk of bread being thrust under his nose, its aroma still rising warmly from the cut side. His mouth watered- there hadn't been any bread since not long after Beorn's house, and his traitorous belly growled.

"Well, go on, not healthy to stand there watching while I eat," Óin chided. Bilbo tried to politely refuse and back away, but the healer just wasn't having any of it. "Lad, even in this unnatural elvish light I can see that you're too pale and thin; that forest outside did you an awful turn, and running around in here certainly hasn't helped any, so I want you to eat."

As he'd been raised properly, Bilbo still tried to refuse. "I couldn't possibly eat part of your dinner, Master Óin. I have access to the wet larder and can find my own dinner later," he demurred. He didn't know exactly how much the dwarves were fed, and couldn't stomach the thought of depriving one of what could be the only meal he received that day.

Óin merely shook the bread in his face again. "I know what's in that larder, and it's nothing healthy for you to live on for weeks, Master Baggins, so you listen to me and you eat what I give you. There's more than enough to share, and you know that I don't hold to anything fanciful like this fruit nonsense that they try to feed us, so you'll be eating that as well. And I'll not hear a word of complaint out of you, lad," Óin chided as Bilbo opened his mouth to refuse again. To top off the indignity, the piece of bread was stuffed in his open mouth and served as a far better distraction than the words as his stomach embarrassingly overruled his mind. Bilbo didn't even think of spitting it out, and instead chewed only enough to avoid choking before he hurriedly swallowed the large morsel down. Another piece was in front of him, and he took it with a mild glare of reproof. Óin didn't appear terribly chastised and simply ate a slice of white cheese while he waited.

In that manner, Bilbo ended up eating most of Óin's bread, half of the cheese, and several strips of the seasoned meat. He also received all the small, slightly bitter, grapes from the tray and didn't know whether they truly complimented the meal or if his hunger merely made them far more palatable than usual.

"Now lad, I want you to go rest, and only after you've slept yourself out are you to go looking for Thorin again, do you understand me?" Óin demanded in the firmest voice Bilbo heard him use yet, and he couldn't help but accede to the healer's sensible demand; especially when the unaccustomed full meal weighed heavily in his belly and enhanced his ever-present exhaustion.

Bilbo started to place the ring back on his finger, but Óin stopped him. "When you find Thorin, the two of you need to talk," the dwarf hesitantly stated, and then sighed at Bilbo's puzzled look. "We've told him that a journey like ours is no place for this kind of thing, that there would be safer times and places, but the lad's got rocks for brains and won't listen to reason."

Silence fell over them both. Bilbo blinked several times and still couldn't make heads or tails out of _that _message, though it seemed that Óin had finished what he meant to say. He and Thorin needed to talk, about something which Thorin decided, and which wasn't safe to be done while they were on the trail? Dwarves were proving to be as cryptic as they were stubborn! "I'm afraid that I don't understand, Master Óin. About what, specifically, do I need to speak with Thorin? Other than our escape and the company's state of health, that is."

"That's between you and Thorin, and he wouldn't thank me kindly for interfering in his business any more than I already have," Óin refused, and Bilbo sensed that he'd not get anything more from the old dwarf.

As he'd tarried far too long in one place already, Bilbo pushed aside the baffling conversation to puzzle over later, wished Óin well, and slipped off to find a suitable resting place- the call of sleep was becoming nearly impossible to ignore.

A handful of hours later, Bilbo shook himself awake with a hastily-muffled shout. His dreams had turned violent, far more violent than ever before, and he suspected that his little ring had something to do with it as he'd never dreamed of such blood-soaked terrors. Even when in the middle of Mirkwood his sleep was restless, perhaps didn't come easily when he lay down for the night, but never left him sweating and shaking, a scream upon his lips. Once his heart settled from its galloping pace, Bilbo edged from his hiding place behind a set of empty barrels and set out to reassure himself that his dwarves were still hale and hearty. In this place, even Dwalin was happy to see him, and he spent time with each to comfort them as best he could.

To his surprise, most of them had Óin's intuition and forced little bits of saved food into his hands. Dwalin refused to eat the honeyed peaches on his tray, calling them "nauseatingly sweet elf-food", though Bilbo knew that he'd eaten them without complaint a few days prior. Fíli and Kíli each managed to talk him into sharing their seasoned meat, concocting the most _unbelievable_ stories as to why he absolutely had to help them by eating part of their meal. Bilbo didn't have the heart to refuse and only laughed at their antics, forcibly reminded of his little cousins back home who could wheedle their way into (and out of) virtually any situation. He was simply thankful that the boys didn't have a fauntling's big pleading eyes to go along with their gift of gab or he'd truly be in trouble.

The others managed to talk him into bits of bread and cheese, and all throughout, Óin fussed over the deepening shadows under his eyes and how pale his skin had grown. If the dwarf had his way, Bilbo would have been hauled between the cell bars and straight onto Óin's cot for a proper rest under the healer's watchful eye. As it stood, he could do nothing but fret and force more food onto Bilbo, and it warmed Bilbo's heart as he curled up alone on the stone floor.

Bilbo felt his heart wrench as he cried that night, sheltered under a corridor table and hidden in his ring's horrible twilight world. He gasped when the tear fell into his hand- he could _see_ it! With his ring on, all colors appeared to be dull and muted, dead. But his gem, gift from a Vala and his own soul, sparkled with pure color. It was as blue as any robin's egg that Bilbo had ever seen and the joy he felt at its sight chased away the icy cold dread which had been stealing across his mind and heart the longer he hid with his ring. That night - first in a very long time - he slept peacefully, gem cradled in his palm against his chest.

As luck would have it, the next day was also the day Bilbo found where Thorin was being kept. Two weeks of searching through all of the lower cellars, and he found the dwarf locked in the most unlikely of places!

It was only as Bilbo was sneaking out of the baths, he'd had to risk bathing earlier than usual to wash off the grime from taking a tumble into an ash pile while trying to evade a pair of tussling elves and hoped that Óin was still awake to give the healer his gem, that he heard the cursing coming from a corridor that he'd already explored two weeks ago. What truly caught his attention, though, was that he recognized both the raised voice and some of the words- everyone in the company tended to mutter the same words under their breath when vexed, like when Nori managed to drop a load of firewood on Dori's lap… though Bilbo was entirely certain that wasn't as accidental as the dwarf claimed.

The corridor branched twice, and Bilbo followed to the left both times. He had to dodge sour-faced elves who seemed to be patrolling the corridor until he finally reached the solid wood door where the voice seemed to be the loudest. It was a guest room, not a storage room with bars to allow ventilation, and Bilbo had to wonder how Thorin managed to get himself shut up in there.

Bilbo clenched his fist to remind himself to keep his ring on and crouched next to the door to be heard. "Thorin!" he hissed, mindful of the elves. There did seem to be far too many in this area to simply be coincidence, and he assumed that they were a guard against Thorin escaping.

Immediate silence fell before scuffles sounded at the door and Bilbo started back at the unexpected noise so close to his ears.

"Burglar? Are the others free?" Thorin's voice sounded from bare inches away through the wood and Bilbo assumed that he'd likewise crouched down.

"No, they're still…" Bilbo had to hurriedly stop as another elf paced by and he waited until he was sure they could freely speak again without being overheard. "No, they're still locked up- several levels down and in what I think is the wine storage?" he guessed, based off of how many barrels he'd seen and how pervasive the scent of wine scented the air.

Thorin did breathe a bit of a laugh at that, which surprised Bilbo. "Thranduil always did love Dorwinion wine and usually imported enough of it that Erebor could scarcely secure a handful of wagonloads before the wine yard's barrels of harvest were depleted. How fares the company?"

Another tense wait for a passing elf, and then Bilbo could answer. "They're healthy enough, if their complaining is anything to judge by," he dryly whispered and counted the chuckle he earned as a further victory against Thorin's previous temper. "They're being kept separate after they all tried to escape- the elves locked them together in one room. It took me a week to find them, but once I did I've been keeping an eye on everyone and spending time with them. You're the last one, and I certainly didn't expect to find you _here_ of all places," Bilbo chided with humor.

"Thranduil first…" Thorin spat, and Bilbo had to hush him as another elf entered the corridor. He continued once it was safe. "He thought that flattery would coerce me into telling him why we were in his forest, and then he made a mockery of it when I would not answer," Thorin explained, though the venom in his tone hadn't died down much at the interruption. Bilbo wished to bring back some of their earlier mirth as this anger grated on his ears.

They couldn't truly speak of much without interruption, though Bilbo did manage to impart that he had no idea how to get them all out of the palace, and soon broke apart for the night with the promise that Bilbo would return the next day.

As he curled up to sleep, again chilled by his ring's presence and the lonely circumstances that he found himself in, Bilbo was rather disappointed that he hadn't been able to give away either of the gems he held. Óin's he could take care of on the morrow, as he had enough time with the dwarf to properly explain, but Thorin? With the elves guarding him, nothing much could be said, and Bilbo didn't want to just shove the gem at the crack under the door and whisper out a few stilted sentences of explanation between patrols. He resolved, again, to wait for a better opportunity, one where he could explain to Thorin's face about the friendship offered and give the gem to him properly- it was no mere trinket to be handled callously, after all. Maybe then he could find the time to ask Thorin about whatever Óin had tried to hint?

The next day went much smoother. No fighting elves, no chutes and ash piles to fall into, and he quickly visited with his dwarves after breakfast to share the welcome news that he'd finally found Thorin. Bifur, this morning, had saved him apple slices and Bilbo munched on the last of the sweet wedges as he turned up Óin's corridor. The placard for his had an odd q with a flat head, and Bilbo wondered again what all the odd words could possibly translate out to mean- they were close enough to Sindarin that he was incredibly curious.

After assuring Óin that he had slept, though not telling him how poorly, and receiving part of the healer's breakfast despite assuring the dwarf that he'd already eaten, Bilbo shared the news that he found Thorin locked up in a guest room three levels above them. Óin had a good laugh at that and agreed with Thorin's assessment about Thranduil's character. "Aye, that elf's a crafty one with an insult and I guarantee that he's planning to tell Thorin where we are sooner rather than later- putting our king in luxury while we're in the cellars is a cut deeper than any sword can give."

Personally, Bilbo wasn't entirely convinced, but he'd given up on getting the dwarves to see reason on the topic of elves. He swiftly dragged out his bag and rescued Óin's gem, the movement thankfully diverting the dwarf from his dissertation on why elves couldn't be trusted.

"What's that you have there, lad?" he asked curiously, and Bilbo dropped the glistening light blue gem into his startled hand. "That's a rare beauty," the old healer breathed in wonder as he examined Bilbo's gem in the light shed by the elves' glowing moss. "What kind of stone _is_ this, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo tried a slightly different version of his explanation, after being caught out by Ori. "First, it would please me greatly if you would call me Bilbo. As to the stone, it's a very special gem," he explained, "found only in the Shire. We give them to our friends as tokens and I'd like for you to have that one."

"Well lad, I'll call you Bilbo if you'll call me Óin, and I think you hobbits have a fine way of showing friendship. I'm twice honored to call you friend," Óin gave him a bow and tucked the little gem safely away in a small pouch he pulled from the inside of his boot.

They soon had to separate as Bilbo still hadn't spoken with Thorin yet, and on his way he overheard the most interesting piece of news: tomorrow the Elvenking was having a great feast at sundown to celebrate his youngest son's fifth centennial birthday, and as the wine would flow freely in honor of the event, the guard rotations around the dwarves would be cut in half. What caused Bilbo's feet to freeze in their tracks and then suddenly reverse was overhearing just _how_ the empty barrels were disposed of.

Oh, he couldn't possibly, could he? They certainly were big enough. Bilbo silently dashed back down the stairs to the dwarves' level and directly across from the stairs, to an area which he'd thought was simply storage for barrels until they were reused in the household. But not so- as he frantically searched thoroughly he could see seams in the rock floor. It was a giant trapdoor which the barrels sat upon! Oh, he could, and the dwarves certainly would behave themselves even if he had to pinch a few ears- they were going to _escape_.

He nearly tripped over his own feet in his hurry to tell Thorin about his new plan. Though not quite as enthusiastic as Bilbo, Thorin nevertheless approved of his plan. "Other than finding thirteen more rings like yours with which we could sneak out the front gates, it's our only chance. Leave me for last, Master Baggins, and bring Nori with you. Thranduil himself holds the key for my door and it'll take a… talented dwarf to convince it to open."

"It'll be difficult enough to sneak you out past all the elves," Bilbo whispered back as soon as another of those elves passed safely beyond hearing their conversation. "I'm not sure that I can get him safely up here and then both of you back down to the barrels."

"Leave that to Nori- I have good reason to trust in his talents," was all that Thorin would say on the matter, and Bilbo had to give in with a sigh.

That night, he slept more poorly than normal. It wasn't his dreams influencing his sleep this time, but his excitement and anticipation that they may finally be free of this place which kept awakening him. He finally gave up on sleep in the early hours of morning, when the light coming through the corridor window was still pink rather than bright and yellow, and headed down to see if he could find enough rope to bind fourteen barrels together. In one of his dreams, they had all been separated during their float down the river and he opened barrel after barrel only to find them empty. Well, he could do something about that!

Bilbo couldn't find a long rope, but he could find many pieces of shorter rope in another storeroom and contented himself with tying each barrel to its neighbor, over and over, like a giant caterpillar. It wouldn't be a solid raft of barrels, but at least they would all stay together. He also made sure to visit each dwarf and explain, carefully, just what he expected them to do that night.

Bombur worried that he may not fit into a barrel, and Bilbo could set his mind at ease as the barrels were big enough to hide three proper-sized hobbits inside. One large dwarf wouldn't be completely comfortable, but he'd fit.

Dwalin growled at the idea of being stuffed in a barrel. Bilbo, after weathering this reaction six times already, snapped at him. "If you don't cooperate, Master Dwalin, then I shall treat you like a misbehaving faunt and give your ear _such_ a twisting!" He nearly laughed in relief as that startled the dwarf completely out of his sulk and left Dwalin blinking at him in shock.

Nori, however, simply accepted their method of escape as well as Thorin's additional request. "It will be fine, Bilbo, you'll see. They'll never know that I'm there," he reassured when Bilbo voiced his uncertainty and apologies that he may not be able to get Nori safely there and back without being caught. Bilbo knew that there was something about Nori he wasn't being told, but he respected their secrets even as he clung tightly to his own.

That night, after the dwarves were served their dinner, Bilbo began. He'd followed the elves enough to know where the keys to the wine cellar were kept and he 'borrowed' them one by one. And one by one he led each dwarf out of his cell, through the corridors, and into a barrel to be closed in. His biggest problem was convincing each dwarf to take off his boots, as dwarves certainly were nowhere as silent as hobbits and their boots made an awful racket against the stone floor. Bilbo tried his hardest not to stare at their curiously socked feet, though it was difficult. He'd seen bare feet all his life, and boots on big people, but socks? What odd little knit coverings!

Bilbo finally had eleven dwarves in barrels with their lids not quite smashed down tight, only enough to look closed but still allow in air, and headed up the stairs with Nori at his invisible back to free Thorin. Nori hadn't argued one bit at leaving his boots in a barrel, and the dwarf even pulled off his socks to walk barefoot through the corridors. Bilbo got the shock of his life when he moved aside for a passing elf, expecting to hear an outcry when Nori was spotted, only to look back on an absolutely empty hallway. It was only after the elf turned a corner that Nori ghosted out of an alcove and Bilbo felt hope that they could possibly succeed.

At Thorin's door, Nori pulled something out of the hair over his left ear as he crouched in front of the lock and it only took a handful of heartbeats before the lock quietly clicked open. Bilbo gaped and was quite thankful that he was invisible for such an undignified action. Nori whispered that he'd get himself back down to the barrels as it would be easier to move one through the corridors rather than three, and then disappeared down the end of the corridor. After his show of ability, Bilbo couldn't disagree with him, even though he still worried about his friend's safety.

Thorin quickly stepped through, and Bilbo hissed at him to remove his boots. He moved back through the door, closed it in case an elf passed by, and Bilbo waited. When Thorin next stepped through the door, he carried his boots tied to his belt by their laces, leaving his hands free, and the two cautiously set out down the corridor. After being stepped over twice by the dwarf who couldn't see him, Bilbo quickly learned to reach a hand back and grab onto Thorin's wrist to direct him. It earned him a bemused, if slightly misdirected off to his right, look but no complaints and Bilbo took that as permission.

Only twice did they need to scramble around other corridor corners to hide from elves, but in the end they finally made it down to the barrels. Before Thorin climbed inside his own barrel, he twisted his wrist in Bilbo's hold to grab onto Bilbo's own invisible wrist and _bowed_ to him. "Thank you for all that you've done these weeks, Master Baggins. You looked after them when I couldn't, and for that I am grateful." Thorin didn't seem to expect a response, as he climbed into his barrel then, and Bilbo couldn't have given one even if his life depended on it. He was, quite simply, shocked speechless at Thorin's actions and had to shake himself back to life after a few seconds of staring at empty space. He'd talk to Thorin at the first chance that he got, he resolved, and give the dwarf his gem- he'd certainly earned it several times over, and it pained Bilbo to keep such a gift away from its intended recipient.

Bilbo closed up Thorin's barrel and then slipped over to make sure that Nori returned safely. The sneaky dwarf gave him a rather cramped wave from the bottom of his barrel, so Bilbo also crookedly jammed on his lid to allow air in during the hours they had to sit. It was a very wrung-out and exhausted hobbit who slumped down into his own barrel and shuffled his lid so that it appeared to be secured. He didn't have any way of closing it up properly from the inside and could only hope that the stream he'd overheard ran below didn't slosh water inside. Bilbo settled in for a nap, still with the ring on his finger and his wrist carrying a ghost of warmth from Thorin's unexpected grasp, while he waited for the elves to finish with their feast and drop the barrels through the trapdoor.

The world falling out from under him jolted Bilbo back to wakefulness and it was only the mechanism's noise which drowned out his surprised scream as he dropped straight down in darkness to begin the wildest and most terrifying ride of his life. After the days which followed, Bilbo completely swore off any sort of water deeper or with more current than his own bathtub.


	9. Fiasco

As Lake-Town names were taken from the Norse, I borrowed Bryn from Brynhildr, a Valkyrie from the poetic eddas (from where Tolkien pulled many of his names). Movie daughter Sigrid *could* be named for the Valkyrie Sigrdrífa...

* * *

Bilbo Baggins was not a happy hobbit, not one tiny little bit. He'd left 'happy' behind long ago, sometime _after_ he recovered from his river-induced cold, and was edging rather quickly towards vexed with each and every passing day though he genuinely did try not to take it out on his friends. They'd _all_ truly tried to care for him when he had been sick, none so more than Thorin himself though Balin and Óin were very close in the count, and Bilbo had appreciated the overbearing presence of a gaggle of dwarves always being underfoot at the time. Only, now he was perfectly recovered, thank you very much, and the situation he found himself in very much grated on his nerves. Words such as 'forward-thinking' and 'discreet' didn't really come to mind when dealing with a pack of dwarves, so Bilbo couldn't really blame them for the problem even if at times he wanted only to throttle the offending dwarf or shove a few dwarves into Lake-Town's canals.

The reason behind his frayed nerves and lack of generous spirit, as it usually proved to be- Thorin. Well, only as the reason and not as the fault this time, Bilbo had to generously concede. Bilbo had been trying, for the entirety of their stay now, to get the dwarf alone for a few minutes so that he could give him his long-overdue gem. Only, now they seemed to have a surplus of dwarves, and before Bilbo could get three words out someone – Balin and Dwalin were the worst offenders, though the other ten certainly made their presence known – managed to intrude, either singly or in multiples. Their reasons were impossibly varied, and led Bilbo to believe that they were genuine; he'd never seen his dwarves carry out a single deception where they weren't as obvious about it as a tween scrumping illicit apples from an orchard. The dwarves weren't being rude about their interruption, either – they were always polite enough to wait far enough back so as not to make Bilbo feel rushed – but once they joined in conversation with Thorin, it took _hours_ before they finished even when Bilbo participated in an attempt to make their interruption pass quicker. If, by some miracle, one finished his business quickly and left, another one popped up with another discussion. Bilbo quickly learned how to deal with the entire situation so that he didn't spend entire days grinding his teeth with the effort of keeping sharp words held behind them.

All in all, Bilbo would get Thorin alone, try to speak to him, and when the inevitable shadow arrived, he'd break away and take himself elsewhere to stew in his frustration. He did notice that Thorin began to throw him baffled, and then worried, looks as it went on, but Bilbo considered those a much better trade than the sheer fury he'd get if he actually did carry out trying to drown any of Thorin's dwarves.

Their last day in Lake-Town, Bilbo rose earlier than usual and ducked into their borrowed house's kitchen to throw together a bit of last night's food as his first breakfast- a couple of rolls stuffed with the spiced beef suited him just fine and would hold him over until more dwarves awoke in time for second breakfast. He was startled to see that he wasn't the only soul awake at this hour, and grinned with warm delight upon spying Thorin's unmistakable form at the large bank of eastern windows.

"Good morning!" he greeted happily, and caught his breath when the sunrise's warm colors blazed across Thorin's face as he turned to return the greeting. Fascinated by the play of light, and its effect of softening the hard lines of worry on the dwarf's face, Bilbo completely missed what words were said, though he still smiled at the welcoming tone. It was only when Thorin's hand came to rest on the edge of his shoulder, concerned at the lack of reaction, that he realized he'd been staring. "Oh! Terribly sorry, must not be fully awake," Bilbo babbled to cover his lapse and mentally kicked himself even as he wondered _what_ in the green world had come over him.

A presence appeared at Bilbo's left shoulder and, without looking, he could immediately identify the dwarf- Dwalin. Bilbo's head thunked forward to rest against the morning-cool window glass and he closed his eyes against his mounting frustration. "Why-," he started to ask, and then cut off that incredibly rude line question. He couldn't ask _why_ Dwalin was bothering them, even if that's exactly what wanted to escape his mouth.

Bilbo gave them both a stiff smile and polite nod, and then escaped out the front door to wander down to a little sheltered and solitary hiding place he'd found a week ago. They wouldn't be leaving until midday, something about the rowers not wanting to fight the morning currents, and he had time to get his emotions back under control before frustration got the better of him.

He sat in silence and watched dark water lap at the pilings as he let the soothing sight lull him as it had for so many days now. So deep was he in avoiding thought that he missed light footsteps and startled badly when a large body sat down next to his on the pier.

"Peace, friend, I didn't intend to catch you unawares," the person apologized, and Bilbo quickly recognized the intruder as Bard. He'd made a fast friend in the bowman as they met several times during Bilbo's frustrated wandering and both appreciated the other's quick wit and intellect. "Do you wish to talk about whatever has driven you to hiding again?"

"It won't make much difference now," Bilbo complained and then stopped himself. He couldn't take his ill humor out on a friend who only ever tried to help and so tried to speak again. The only problem Bilbo found is that every time he opened his mouth to start to speak, only inarticulate noises escaped.

Bard chuckled at his dilemma and Bilbo couldn't help but join in as he could see the humor in his situation even through the irritation, and it helped him relax enough that the entire story spilled out in a more or less coherent stream. He told of trying to catch Thorin alone to speak with him about a personal matter, and failing at it; of trying to _fabricate_ moments where they would be alone to speak, and miserably failing at it. He'd even stalked the other dwarves to make sure that they were busy before he tried to isolate Thorin for a few stolen moments alone, only to be thwarted in the end. By the end of his explanation turned diatribe, Bard was absolutely _howling_ with laughter and Bilbo seriously gave thought to shoving his friend into the water below. Bard wasn't a dwarf, he could swim, and Bilbo was… well, he was mostly sure that the man wouldn't take great offense at the abrupt dunking.

The man must have read the threat in Bilbo's face, for he worked hard to contain his mirth enough to speak. "My friend, I have been in your situation before, and found it no less frustrating," he managed around gasping for breath.

Bilbo gave his friend the benefit of the doubt and they both remained sitting, safely on the dock and dry, until Bard had recovered enough to speak without interrupting himself every few words. He gave his friend a pointed look which prompted him to get on with it.

"When I was courting my wife, one of her brothers would always shadow us to chaperone. After three months of never having a moment alone, even Bryn was about ready to kill them to earn a little peace." Bard gave him a knowing look which made Bilbo's face and ears heat in a blush. He could only stammer and trip over his own tongue as he issued half-hearted denials of Bard's claim.

"No, Bilbo, you may try to deny it, but I've watched the two of you. Thorin watches you as if everything you do is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, though he tries to hide it from you. And _you_, my friend, you watch Thorin as if he's the biggest puzzle that you've ever faced, and you can't wait to solve him."

That was too much for Bilbo to remain silent. "I certainly have _not_!" he sputtered with indignation. "I've simply been trying to figure out how to talk to him, and why all the dwarves suddenly need to keep interrupting." Bilbo turned away from Bard to avoid seeing the man's teasing grin and caught a flash of dark hair ducking behind a barrel. He blinked in confusion but was distracted as Bard's next words dragged him back into the dratted discussion.

"I still don't buy your excuse, though it sounds like you've fairly well convinced yourself of it. You're even worse than Bryn and I before we started courting, though I doubt that you've ever pulled Thorin's hair or put mud down his shirt," Bard mused. "Even when we were courting, Bryn and I still had our problems, and not just with trying to dodge her brothers long enough to steal a kiss or two. I fought with my doubts about why she bothered to agree to my courtship, as her family are merchants of some wealth while all I have to offer is a failed bloodline to a dead city."

Bilbo frowned at him in puzzlement. "If you had doubts, why did you ask to court her in the first place?"

"We grew up together here, and even as small children she always had my attention. When we became of age, she just… she took my breath away," Bard explained with a faraway look in his eye and a fond smile. "She still does, even though her hair has more grey in it now, but I still wonder every day that she chose _me_. Bryn calls me a silly idiot because of it," he laughed. "It's also how I know what to look for in you and Thorin, my friend, no matter what words you try to hide behind."

His friend was truly wise and Bilbo had to admit, even just to himself, that all his procrastinating over Thorin's gem wasn't exactly because he couldn't find the perfect moment to give it to the dwarf. He hadn't been brave enough to name the reason why, but the two of them had been circling each other for quite a while. Bilbo opened his mouth to reply when he was knocked into Bard's lap and nearly off the dock itself by two heavy bodies tumbling into him.

Shrieks and yells followed the frightening actions, and as soon as his feet were on steady wood, Bilbo crept to peer over the edge only to glare as he clapped eyes on the impertinent intruders. There, treading cold water and looking far too much like drowned cats, were two dwarves who had absolutely no reason to be anywhere near Bilbo's hiding place. Bard kindly helped fish them out of the lake and Bilbo met them, arms crossed irately and foot only barely restrained from tapping.

"Just what do you boys think you were doing? You could have hurt yourselves, or someone else, with your foolishness!" he scolded, and was pleased to see their satisfied expressions droop into distress.

"We saw you run off earlier, Bilbo, and wanted to make sure that you were safe," Kíli started.

"So we followed you and hid. And then _he_," Fíli pointed at an entirely too amused Bard who leaned back against the house behind them, "made you angry so we stayed to rescue you!"

"Only, I slipped, and Fíli grabbed tried to grab me, and then we both fell," Kíli finished.

Bilbo closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. The boys meant well even if their execution of it left much to be desired. Truly, it was a miracle that they had lived this long without getting killed. He abruptly reached up to grab each dwarf by the earlobe, getting a firm pinch even as both squirmed and tried to break free, and turned his head back to speak with the man behind him. "Thank you for fishing them out of the lake, Bard, but now I've got to take these two children back before one of their accidents manages to sink the town."

The two friends parted with a smile, and Bilbo headed off back to their borrowed home with a spring in his step and a chorus of yelps and moans following him. He knew how to deal with idiotic younglings, and the boys still had a league to go if they wanted to top some of his cousins! Besides, he had a dwarf to see to and a truth to stop hiding from; Bilbo smiled to himself as his chest warmed with happiness. Yes, he certainly did have a dwarf to see to, whether it was here or on the trail.


	10. Cobalt

Bilbo hissed in pain as someone jostled his feet in the dark, and a sheepish-sounding Fíli whispered an apology. Even when whispered at the distance of only a finger's breadth from his ear, Bilbo still could barely hear it above the din of Smaug's infuriated roars outside. Finally, mercifully, the din faded as if the dragon moved off from their collapsed and now unhidden entrance into the mountain, and Bilbo could feel the tense bodies pressed against his own begin to slowly relax. There was a clattering of rock pieces somewhere to Bilbo's right as it sounded like a dwarf stood to his feet in the rubble.

"Kíli, Glóin, go scout this tunnel and make sure it's safe enough for us to hide in for a day or two in case that fiend comes for us from the inside," Thorin's voice ordered in the dark. "If it's safe, bring back enough wood for a fire- Óin will want to see to us, and there'll be no escaping him as handily as we did the dragon."

Óin grumbled imprecations against Thorin even as the others snickered and noisily stood to spread out from their tight cluster. Bilbo tried to keep his damaged feet safely away while he marveled at the change in the entire company. They'd face death in so many ways, faced hardships one after another as if their journey had been cursed from the beginning, and just been run inside the mountain's secret entrance by a livid dragon; yet, for all of that, the dwarves sounded nearly euphoric to be back inside Erebor and Thorin had even made a small joke, something which, if asked two months ago, Bilbo would never have guessed the grimly driven dwarf capable of doing.

"Shouldn't we move from here? If Smaug buried us, can't he unbury us just as easily?" Bilbo asked with trepidation as the darkness pressed down on him and every slither of loose rock reminded him that there was a wall of rubble just to his left.

Bofur's voice piped up from far closer than expected and drew a surprised gasp from Bilbo's throat. "We're perfectly safe where we are, if you're asking about the rock. He brought down about three lengths of mountain behind us, and even that menace can't tunnel through that much- did you see his claws? They're built for cutting, not digging. No, he's far more likely to try and roast us alive from the other end of this tunnel than he is to dig us out from the outside," the dwarf cheerfully explained, and Bilbo wished that his feet didn't hurt so abominably. He'd love to kick his friend for that lovely new worry.

"No, I didn't look at his claws. I was looking at his teeth, and the flame, and the tunnel roof which was coming down upon my head. Next time I'm being killed by a dragon, though, I'll be sure to examine his _toenails_," Bilbo replied somewhat waspishly. Bofur only laughed in response, along with a few other dwarves, and Bilbo gave up thoughts of kicking them all. There was something _wrong_ with their sense of humor! The thought crossed his mind that he should use rocks to the head rather than kicking, to encourage the growth of common-sense, but then Bilbo banished that idea- many had taken rocks to the head as the passage collapsed under furious strikes from the dragon's tail, and yet none showed any signs of improvement. Or did he just need to try bigger rocks to get through their thick dwarven skulls?

Bilbo's musings were cut short by warm light presaging the return of Kíli and Glóin, and he whole-heartedly welcomed the glorious return of sight. Even his most outlandish musings weren't enough to keep the gnawing fears at bay for long in the insidious dark. It pressed in and magnified even the smallest fear into a heart-pounding terror.

Kíli dumped his massive armload of wood and then held the torch, fashioned from what looked like a table leg, while Glóin arranged everything to his satisfaction. "This corridor goes on for about six lengths, and turns twice," he reported to Thorin as he stood with the torch. "We didn't see any other rooms or doors cut into it, but after it opens up into the main passages there are rooms; it's where we found the furniture to break up for the fire. Wouldn't you rather camp in one of the rooms, Uncle? They're still so beautiful!" Kíli enthused.

Thorin immediately shook his head. "Here will be safer, if the beast comes for us through the inside of the mountain."

"Excuse me, but why is it safer?" Bilbo had to ask, as he'd much prefer a proper room with four solid walls to a rubble-strewn corridor with a collapsed section at one end. The rock still tumbling down and settling did not instill confidence in his heart that the rest of the corridor wouldn't suddenly decide to squish them all into messy, and no doubt painful, deaths.

Rather than Thorin, it was Glóin who answered as he sat back from his successfully lit fire and tucked his much-dented tinderbox back under his beard. "It's because of the fire, lad. With the corridor sealed like this, it traps the air inside it. If that menace tries to blast his fire at us from the other end, then the flames won't want to go around the corners, and the air will back up at our end so that we can still breathe. That thing's too stupid to trickle flame up the corridor, to burn the air out like a lovingly-tended forge can, so we'll be safer here than in a pretty room where we're vulnerable."

A few other dwarves nodded, and Bilbo assumed that they had closely worked with flame enough to know its properties. "Now lads, enough discussion- talk won't close those cuts. If your noses fall off due to wound rot because you were too tender to let me stitch you to keep out the dirt, then don't come weeping to me when you cannot find a mate!" Óin chivvied them into action with his own version of affection, and Bilbo freely grinned at his friends' sudden hunted expressions. For being a pack of tough dwarves, they certainly were squeamish about being tended to!

"Bilbo, you're over here first. I want to look at those feet again and see what mischief you've done those blisters by running on them."

Obligingly, Fíli and Kíli helped Bilbo move over closer to the fire by picking him up between them, but did not place his feet directly facing it. They scattered clear of the healer just as soon as they could, though, as if afraid that he'd trap them into having their wounds treated. Óin motioned for him to sit with it to his side, to keep the heat safely away, and he was grateful for that consideration- his feet felt hotter than a fresh bed warmer. "Dwalin grabbed me, actually, when the mountainside came down and carried me in," he admitted while Óin tutted over the blistered burns which wrapped around the backs and bottoms of his feet.

Normally Bilbo would have railed against being picked up and carried like a child, but he'd been sitting down when Smaug appeared in the air over their ledge, and then he'd just _frozen_ in horrified panic. The rest of the dwarves had been closer to the hidden doorway and had darted inside, expecting him to follow, but Bilbo had been stuck sitting on his rock even as the dragon's belly began to glow ominously brighter and only Dwalin's arm around his middle had shifted him. The dwarf grabbed, tucked Bilbo against his side, and then pelted for the door which Nori held open. They nearly didn't make it. Tongues of flame had followed inside to lick around the stone door's edges as it slammed closed to leave them in impenetrable darkness. And then the world fell in.

Óin gave him as frank a look as Bilbo had ever received from the dwarf. "You may owe Dwalin your feet, Bilbo. We don't have enough water in our skins for me to have cleaned your feet properly, had you run on them and ground filth deep into broken blisters, and my tinctures were still down on the ponies. By now, that beast will have either eaten them or panicked them clear to the Iron Hills, so I couldn't treat the rot which would inevitably set in," he explained, and Bilbo shivered. With their situation, such festering wounds could cost a limb, or a life.

"But they're not that bad?" he asked anxiously as he tried to get a good look at one of his heels in the flickering light. Óin grabbed the top of his ankle to stop his nervous twisting, before his calves completely slipped off the small boulder on which they were propped for examination.

"I stuffed my pockets with that burn paste the men gave us before we left the ponies, given that you were going down to see about a dragon and I didn't trust the thing to have had the decency to die before we arrived. It won't work as quickly as a salve of my own, but give it two days and you'll be walking again- those blisters on your soles haven't developed any further, thank all for tough hobbit feet, but it'll take longer for the burns on the backs of your feet to heal. Your skin's more delicate there and the burns set in deeper. They won't stop you from walking, but you'll need to take care and keep them clean and covered." Óin dumped one of the tins into Bilbo's lap and motioned for him to remain seated where he was. "I have infants to stitch up before they decide to get themselves lost, dragon or no, so you stay there and I'll send someone over to spread that paste on your feet."

Bilbo outright laughed at Óin's words, and received a cheeky smile in return- the healer wasn't half as grumpy as he played up, but he did have to out-stubborn his patients more often than not, and that required a very _forceful_ show of personality. He enjoyed the fire at his back and tried to forget the fire in his feet as he watched dwarves scatter away from the approaching healer. Óin bellowed Dwalin's name, and the intimidating warrior actually shrunk into himself as he was cornered and subjected to a thorough inspection. Bilbo wondered if all dwarves were so vehemently opposed to seeking a healer's aid, or if his twelve dwarves were simply special in that regard. It all seemed rather… self-defeating for a race who thrived on risk – battle, tunneling riches out of the ground, tending forges capable of rendering bone to ash – to avoid a healer when soured wounds could easily claim a life.

His musings were abruptly interrupted as a large shape dropped to the ground by his feet. Bilbo twitched and chided himself for losing track of everyone.

"Didn't mean to startle you," Dwalin rumbled by way of apology as he held one large hand out for the tin which Bilbo still cradled in his lap.

Madly hoping that his embarrassed flush couldn't be seen above the fire's tint, Bilbo surrendered the tin and mumbled that it was quite alright. He noticed that Dwalin had a closed gash among shallower cuts and scrapes on the outside bend of his left elbow, which looked like it had to have been caused by a heavy sharp rock, and stared. He'd been carried on Dwalin's left, which meant that he'd been shielded by that arm, and that his own lack of scratches, gouges, gashes, and dirt ground into open blisters was due to this dwarf; this dwarf who was now spreading the pine-smelling burn paste over his burned feet so gently that Bilbo could only feel where his fingers were by the sensation of the cooler paste against his blazing skin.

"Thank you," Bilbo managed to whisper around the sudden frog of emotion in his throat. He shoved down the swell of emotion at the realization of how protected he'd been as this certainly wasn't the time.

Dwalin looked up at him briefly and waved the hand holding the tin. "Don't thank me till I'm done, Master Baggins. Fingers aren't as deft as Óin's, and may still end up poking you," he dismissed.

Bilbo stretched to lightly grasp Dwalin's wrist and catch his attention. "No, I mean _thank you_, Master Dwalin. For carrying me in when I couldn't move, for protecting me from the falling stone, and for this even if you do end up poking me," he smiled gently and received a ghost of an answering smile through the dwarf's tense concentration in return. He released the wrist he held to let Dwalin finish spreading the paste, and if was poked two or three times, Bilbo never twitched so much as a toe to let Dwalin know about it.

That night, or what the dwarves called night since Bilbo couldn't sense the passage of time within the mountain in the same way that they claimed they could, they all bedded down as best they could. Bilbo and Dori, whose shoulder had been badly wrenched by a large section of falling ceiling while he shielded his brothers, were exempt from the exercise, but everyone else had been conscripted to brush the corridor floor free of debris. Even Thorin joined in to crouch down and use his outer tunic as a broom to tidily sweep pebbles and heavier rock dust back towards the collapsed section; Bilbo was actually rather impressed by the dwarf's unexpected handiness with such a menial task.

As he turned to shake out his tunic and slip it back on, Thorin caught Bilbo's eye and smirked as if he'd read the hobbit's astonishment. Bilbo promptly looked everywhere but at the dwarf, mind still whirling with Bard's revelation. He wasn't exactly _averse_ to the idea of courtship, exactly, but he didn't know what to do with one as he'd never before had any offers. Bilbo was saved an awkward, at least on his part, encounter by Bombur's booming call that the area was sufficiently cleared to sleep on.

Everyone looked to his own bedding – usually a tunic or jacket wadded up in place of a pillow – and they all quickly dropped off to sleep after the exhausting day. Thorin declined to set a watch rotation that night, as there were no dangers in Erebor other than the dragon, and his racket would rouse them all should he decide to try burning them in the night. Dragons weren't exactly known for their stealth, after all.

Bilbo waited while the snores around him evened and deepened. The emotion in his chest, impatient as ever, pushed at him and made the inside corners of his eyes prickle but he remained still and quiet where he lay near the fire, legs propped up on a small boulder over which Thorin had insisted on spreading his folded cloak to act as padding. Only once Bilbo was certain, absolutely certain, that all his dwarves were asleep did he turn his head away from the fire, loosen his control over the emotion, and let it have its way.

The warm squeeze in his chest was still his favorite feeling in the world, for it meant that he _felt_ and Bilbo didn't think that he'd ever lose his wonder over the return of his tears, or his gratitude to the dwarves who prompted it. The tear dripped, liquid, from his eye and crystalized as it slipped down his before it dropped into his waiting hand. Bilbo froze as he listened for any sounds from the dwarves, but no cry of surprise or covert shuffle met his sensitive ears. He twisted to surreptitiously examine his little gem in the firelight.

It was such a dark blue in the dim light that if Bilbo didn't know better he would have called it black, like the darkest blue of his mother's treasured cobalt glass figurines which now sat in his Aunt Mirabella's front windowsill. But as the fire's varying light shifted through it, little sparkles of lighter blue briefly flared to life, like the moon bugs which came out during summer nights in the Shire. Aware that he could spend all night watching the fascinating reaction, Bilbo carefully tucked the gem away in his little bag, careful not to clink together any of the bag's contents lest he disturb a sleeping dwarf. He nestled the bag against the skin of his chest again, where Thorin's gem could rest near his heart despite his own bewildered reaction to the dwarf's potential budding courtship, and let his exhaustion sweep him off to sleep.

Morning brought empty stomachs, stiffened limbs, and complaining dwarves. Thorin ordered all the dwarves out in two groups, Bilbo hid a smile as he imagined Thorin only doing so to avoid all the grousing and whining that had been done as everyone hauled sore bodies off the unforgiving stone floor. One group was led by Thorin and they were to go to the left down the wide passage at the end of their corridor in search of anything usable – any tapestries that survived the century of neglect which they could use as mattresses or any of the long-term food stores which Thorin believed could be nearby. He had been very young when Erebor was lost, but dwarves did keep emergency stores in case of famine which even a century of neglect wouldn't touch, if water or air did not breach the seals on their casks. The other group was to head right under the leadership of Fíli up the passage in search of more furniture to use as firewood. From Glóin's report, much of the more delicate craftsmanship had dry rotted to unusable crumbly shards, but there should still be stout pieces to find and break apart. It went without saying that both groups were to be as silent as possible lest their resident dragon hear their forays and come to incinerate them.

Bilbo was quick to request of Óin that Dwalin remain behind to help him with the paste and his feet, as the dwarf had done such a wonderful job the day before. Óin gave him a discerning look, and Bilbo remembered that the canny healer carried one of his gems and could possibly suss the reason for his request, but only nodded in acceptance of the request. After Dwalin's stitches were checked for tell-tale inflammation, he was pointed in Bilbo's direction and twelve dwarves split up to carry out their assigned tasks.

As they went through the painful ritual of wiping down his feet with a clean cloth from Bombur's pack – which was the only pack to be dropped in the corridor the first time they dashed inside of it to hide from Smaug – Bilbo dug out the little gem. His actions didn't go unnoticed and Dwalin looked up from his gentle, but agonizing, work with a questioning look. "Need something?" he asked.

"Nope, but I wish to give _you_ something." Bilbo held out his hand and waited until Dwalin had secured both the cloth and nearly empty skin of precious water before he laid the gem into the warrior's outstretched hand. The sheer size of that hand made the little gem seem smaller than any of the others, though Bilbo knew it to be of average size.

"And what's this little beauty for, Master Baggins? I don't recognize it as dwarf-hewn," Dwalin seemed just as entranced by its odd short-lived flaring sparkles as Bilbo had been the night before.

Bilbo launched into a version of the now very familiar explanation. He ended with, "They're a secret kept to my people, but it's still given in honest friendship."

Dwalin watched him thoughtfully, looking back down to the gem in his hand at times. "I'll not poke about another's secrets, Ma- Bilbo, but may I ask how hobbits treat _their_ gems? If they're that important to your people, I'd not want to offend, even by accident."

Thinking quickly, Bilbo pictured his parents, and his cousins. He didn't have many gems of his own, and had lost the ability before any of it had become an issue to deal with, but his family had adored each and every one of theirs. "Some are kept out of sight, private even from the eyes of our own people, but some are mounted in jewelry and worn proudly in plain sight for all to see. Gems of friendship are usually worn thus, as they say about the wearer that he or she is one to trust and befriend. Because I've broken one of the rules of my people, I would ask that you please do not display your gem, or if you do, please do not disclose what it actually is. It is your gem and I would never dream of telling you what to do with it, but that is what I ask in the name of our friendship." Bilbo's heart pounded as he trusted this information to Dwalin, more than he'd ever revealed to any of the other dwarves, and perilously close to breaking the most sacred of rules for a hobbit. The gems were a gift, and he truly could _not_ bring himself to demand that Dwalin hide it away, just as he could not truly lie when asked the very innocent, well-intentioned, and yet too pointed question. Oh, by sweet Yavanna he'd love for the dwarf to hide it away as the others had done, safely out of sight, but he could never demand. It simply wasn't his place to do so.

Dwalin thought a moment longer and then reached back to dig into his left boot and withdraw a small leather pouch. It had been seared with the angular runes of the dwarves' language, and Dwalin carefully dropped the gem into it before he tied the strings tightly to close it and shoved it deep into his boot again. "Once we retake Erebor and start the great forges once more, I'll make a pendant mount for it so that I can wear it as your people do, but I will do as you ask and keep it out of sight by wearing it under my clothes."

Bilbo nodded, as that was the best compromise that he could hope for, and it truly did gladden his heart to know that at least one gem would have a proper mount even if it was never displayed like it should be. But, others would ask questions if one or two dwarves displayed their unusual gems, and then that could put the entire Shire in jeopardy again. Dwalin appeared to hesitate.

"I would ask that you do something for me, in the name of friendship, but only if you wished to," he asked and grimaced as whatever he thought to ask appeared to weigh heavily on him.

"You may ask anything you wish without judgment, and if I wish to decline then I shall do so without thinking any less of you for the asking," Bilbo was quick to reassure. Dwalin wasn't the kind to ask frivolous favors of him, wasn't the kind of dwarf for _frivolous_ anything of any kind at all, and so Bilbo was more than willing to listen.

"I would ask that you consider giving Thorin's offer of courtship a chance." He continued before Bilbo could rally a rebuttal. "Something must have happened in Lake-Town, because you've gone all kinds of skittish around him when once you were happy to be close, but his offer is genuine and not a passing fancy." Dwalin warred with himself before he spoke again. "I've been by his side since I was old enough to hold a short-axe, and he's never taken up with someone the way he has with you. I think it scared him, in the beginning, but you stuck with us and didn't let him chase you away, and then you gave him the grandest courtship opening offer that's been seen since Durin the fourth joined with men and elves in the Last Alliance."

"I don't know what that means," Bilbo managed to state, though his voice was rather faint with shock.

Dwalin simply gave him a look which implied that Bilbo was being intentionally dense. "He joined the war to impress his intended and give her such a mighty opening offer that no other suitor could hope to best it. When he came back to Khazad-Dûm after the war she accepted his courtship, of course, as he'd dedicated his units to her name and honor. You did the same for Thorin when you moved to attack Azog after killing the orc that was threatening his life. Had you only killed the first orc and then let us help, it wouldn't have been an offer. But you killed the threat and then made Thorin's enemy your own, fought his battle when he could not and stood for his life; _that_, Bilbo, was a courtship offering."

Dazedly, Bilbo noticed that his feet had been slathered in paste while he was distracted by Dwalin's words, and he hadn't felt a single thing. His mind whirled and his heart tripped along as memories, emotions, and thoughts tumbled together in his head like a pack of puppies. "I will consider it," he heard himself murmur as Dwalin looked at him expectantly and was neither shocked by his decision nor unhappy with it. He honestly didn't know what to feel.

Perhaps sensing his confusion, Dwalin left him alone and seated himself further down the corridor to keep watch for the others when they returned.

Bilbo had much to think on, but fate wouldn't give him much time in which to do it. His soles were already healing, and he didn't know that there was yet a greater danger hiding in the mountain than the dragon.


	11. Blueberry

I want to wish a very happy birthday to my incredibly patient beta - KillerWhiteRose - it's her birthday this Saturday :) She's had to fix my mistakes, help straighten out ideas, and try not to laugh when I complain that I don't know what I want to write next... difficult work. Happy birthday hon!

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Bilbo didn't think that his waistline would ever be the same. He'd started this journey as a properly plump hobbit, with his middle beginning to round out just right for one coming into his best years. Their months spent traveling, often on foot, and the exertions his poor body had been put to saw that middle melt down until precious few reserves remained between skin on the outside and bone on the inside. He tried not to think about what other hobbits would say, tried not to imagine the look of shock on their faces, if they saw him in his current state- he was almost _thin_. Hobbits had learned the hard way that thin meant vulnerability, for should another time of privation come, the thin always died first. The Fell Winter had taught him that lesson personally as he'd watched a cadre of young Goodbody faunts, bare weanlings all and none old enough to yet carry the protective pads of fat that they'd have developed in a few short years, shrivel and fall fatally still as their tiny bodies tried to save them from the starvation. The sleep only bought them an extra day and then his little cousins, several times removed, were gone. Bilbo hadn't had time to properly grieve as their deaths were soon eclipsed by the deaths of his parents, and then he hadn't felt much of anything after _that_.

This, however… this situation truly took the cake! They'd survived the orcs which had hunted them at every turn, goblins that wished to torture and eat them, gigantic spiders of horrifying proportions which wanted to hang them up and suck the juices out of their still-living bodies, and a dragon's furious rampage. They may not, in the end, survive Thorin's descent into madness and intellect-numbing _greed_. No provisions from Erebor's stores had lasted through the dragon's occupation- that section of the mountain had been brought down in the creature's eagerness to strip Erebor of its golden decorations. Even the railings had been stripped from the walkways, leaving them with sheer drops and more than a few were crumbled beyond hope as the stone had given way in the face of the beast's rough greed.

Fourteen mouths depended on the food which had been stored in Bombur's pack, and in the rescued packs which Fíli and Kíli had dashed outside to retrieve once the crow confirmed Smaug's death at the hands of Bard. Their ponies had either been eaten or fled, for there was no sign of them other than great scorch marks near where they'd been picketed, but their small campsite under a rocky overhang had escaped the dragon's notice. Unfortunately, many of their provisions were still on the ponies as they were never expecting to camp below. Thorin's grand plan had seemed to consist of dealing with the dragon and then bringing them into the stables through the front gates.

Thorin. Oh, how Bilbo would love to shake that dwarf until his bones rattled and some sense shook loose! Right now, Bilbo was ever so thankful that he hadn't given the gold-hungry two-legged dragon his gem: Thorin was abusing all sense of friendship, and it even appeared as if courtship had been pushed far out of the dwarf's mind in favor of hoarding his gold. Thoughts of food certainly had been.

Their meager supply of food was dwindling fast, and rather than being rational about trading over a share of the treasure with the men for food and reparations, Thorin had _refused_. Bard tried several times to reach an accord then, wisely, gave up and challenged Thorin to eat the gold he was so unwilling to give up. No food would enter the mountain through the blockade of men and elves and fourteen were consigned to a slow starvation through the greedy intractable actions of one dwarf.

They had plenty of water as the River Running originated in the mountain, so Bombur did his best with ever-thinning soups. They used the liquid to fill up the empty spaces in their bellies, and spices to trick the tongue. Two wafers of cram per pot of soup were boiled until they fell apart, to act as a thickener, and then one piece of dried meat was cut as finely as possible so that they would all get a few flakes floating in their bowls. Along their journey, Bifur had collected and secreted away greens in his packs, and he'd offered those for the pot as well. Not a single one of them was choosy enough to refuse his generosity- hunger made the grasses and flowers palatable to even the pickiest dwarf.

Bilbo knew what he had to do, had known what he had to do once Thorin returned with Bard's ultimatum, but he shivered uncontrollably every time he thought about it. Thorin had become absolutely crazed about the Arkenstone, the same stone which weighed heavily in Bilbo's pocket and on his conscience. Tonight, Bilbo decided as he stared morosely into his empty bowl, tonight he had to carry out his plan or there wouldn't be anything left to save- they only had one wafer of cram and a handful of dried flowers left for tomorrow's soup. After that, there would be only water to slake their hunger, and that could fool a starving belly for only so long.

Movement at his side had Bilbo jumping guiltily, and he nearly dropped his bowl in fright.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Master Baggins," Bombur apologized as he settled his girth beside Bilbo's at the fire. They were the only two left; the others had either retired to their bedrolls or been dragged back down to the treasury with Thorin to continue looking for the Arkenstone.

Bilbo waved off the apology and set his bowl on the floor. As his heart had jumped, so had his headache, to pound along in echo with the beat, and reached up to rub at his temples in a futile effort to soothe it. Between the strain of Thorin's uncertain temperament and their situation, and the onset of starvation, Bilbo's poor head had suffered for days. He jerked, nerves fizzling and popping, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Bombur peered at him worriedly. "You don't look well, and don't try to wave me off this time. You haven't looked well for a while," the dwarf gave Bilbo a narrow and assessing look which reminded the hobbit that, jovial as he may be, Bombur still possessed the keen eyes and mind of his people. "I think that you lied to me, a bit, when you said that your reserves would get you through this. I think that they were nearly gone before we even got to the mountain."

The words fell onto Bilbo nearly as physical hits and he cringed back a bit, only stopped by the hand still gently grasping his shoulder. "I… well…" Bilbo sputtered, very much caught in the lie that he'd told. He sighed heavily and decided to confess, as the little lie wouldn't matter much in the face of what he planned to do later.

"Yes, well, I did fib a bit about that. With Thorin so concerned about finding the Arkenstone there wasn't any reason to worry anyone, and we're all hungry," Bilbo admitted.

"I don't think that's the entire reason, though I believe you not wanting to worry anyone." Bombur shoved his own bowl, miraculously still filled with his ration of thin soup, into Bilbo's surprised hands. "I watched you tonight, and waited, and you're going to eat this. That headache's the worst it's been in days, and your hands are actually trembling now, so don't even argue with me."

Bilbo looked down in astonishment to discover that Bombur was right- the hand he held up did tremble, though he couldn't tell if it was from hunger or the terror of what he planned to do that night. He considered refusing the bowl, as it was far too generous to accept, but one look at Bombur's stubbornly set face decided the matter. Bilbo picked up the spoon and began to shove lukewarm soup into his mouth, faster as his stomach realized that more food was forthcoming and began to gnaw at him. Once the bowl was empty, guilt returned and he could barely look up into Bombur's eyes as he handed the bowl back.

"Now, don't you be doing any of that! I've far more reserves than you, enough for three hobbits, and I won't have you feeling bad about what I gave as a gift, Master Baggins," he scolded. Bombur patted his own girth when Bilbo looked up, and they shared a moment of mirth as the dwarf truly did carry enough weight for any three or four hobbits. In the Shire, his size and appetite would have been met with glee, at least until his lack of table manners were demonstrated.

Bombur rose to collect Bilbo's bowl for cleaning before he headed to his own bedroll, as the dwarf had the late watch that night. Bilbo remained to stare morosely into the fire though his belly now gurgled happily away at the second helping. Without warning, a sob caught in his throat and shook his entire body. Bilbo curled into himself, face pressed to his knees and arms wrapped tightly around them, as the emotion ripped through him with the force of a springtime storm. After the tension, the fear, the hunger, Bombur's incredible kindness was more than he could withstand and he was so very thankful that he was alone- he couldn't have held back the tear even had there been orcs in front of him.

When the crash and twist and tangle of emotion had passed and his shudders calmed to an occasional hiccup, Bilbo lifted his head and released the bruising hold he had on his legs. Caught in the folds of his trousers sat a little gem, dark where it was shadowed against the fire's light. He picked up with fingers which now trembled with fatigue from the emotion's release, and held it up to see the little wonder. In the light, it positively _glowed_ as if it contained a miniature copy of the fire inside of itself. Bilbo also chuckled, as the light made it turn a medium blue which resembled a ripe blueberry, so very perfect for Bombur that Bilbo couldn't have imagined a more suitable gem. Yavanna truly did bless her creatures, he marveled as he clasped the gem and stood to find the dwarf. With this tear, Bilbo would gain one last friend before he had to perform one of the worst actions that he'd ever done in his life, but it also reminded him that even amongst the most ugly of circumstances, beauty could still be found if one looked for it.

Bombur was easy enough to find, as he was sitting against the mountain's fortified wall atop the gate. They didn't really have to mount a guard, as the blockade was more than happy to let them peacefully starve to death without risking their own skins in battle, but Thorin still insisted upon it with a fervor which bordered on mania.

"Master Bombur, I don't know how much longer any of us have, so I wish to give you this," Bilbo passed over the gem and watched Bombur examine it in the gate's torchlight. He gave his explanation about the gem while the dwarf stood, eyes closed and gem fisted tightly to his chest. Once he'd finished speaking, Bombur looked at him with no trace of his usual joviality.

"The others carry these gems." It wasn't a question, only a very flat statement, and Bilbo was left floundering as Bombur briefly closed his eyes again only to open them again moments later. "They do, and that's why they've not gone as gold mad as Thorin has even though he's dragged most of them off to dig through the treasure for that Arkenstone of his. I could feel it calling to me, pulling and whispering, even while I stayed up top with the fire and supplies, but it's stopped now," Bombur said with wonder coloring his voice. He held his gem up nearly to his nose and studied it.

"This isn't a gem from the ground, Master- I'm sorry my friend, Bilbo. It _feels_ almost like a living thing, if that makes any sense, and not at all like a stone does."

Bilbo squirmed uncomfortably at having his lie so baldly torn apart. He also didn't know what to make of the dwarf's claim about the gold madness- his stomach twisted at the thought that he could have saved Thorin if only. No, Bilbo hastily cut that thought off. This was no time for 'if only', and he had no proof that the gem in his bag would have helped the dwarf; instead, it might have only driven him to new heights of avarice, and Bilbo's folly could have seen the Shire emptied just as the histories of old taught.

"Bombur, I have a favor to ask of you. A very large favor," Bilbo asked instead of answering, and Bombur blinked at the sudden change in tone. He clasped his gem to his chest again, and nodded.

"I can guess at what you're looking to do, and it's far braver than anything that I'd dare." He nodded at Bilbo's right pocket, "I felt that when I sat next to you earlier, and it confirmed what I'd thought. If you're holding on to it, then you have your reasons, and our leader hasn't been in his right mind about this entire thing. I'm fat, not stupid, Bilbo," Bombur dryly joked at Bilbo's astounded look. "What this little gem tells me is that whatever it is, it's tied to you, and you're sick with worry, not greed. So I'll say that I don't feel well tonight, suppose dinner didn't sit right with me, and I'll ask if you'd be so kind as to take over the rest of my watch, my friend," Bombur mimed a stomachache.

Bilbo surprised them both as he threw his arms around the dwarf and squeezed. The hug, though, was readily returned as Bombur's embrace lifted him up onto the tip of his toes and squeezed the air from his lungs in one great whoosh. Despite his temporary inability to draw a full breath, Bilbo adored it and reveled in the rare contact until they both let go and stepped back.

"Now, don't you be thanking me, Bilbo, as I have something of my own to ask in return- don't come back once you've done what you intend. The rest of us will miss you something fierce, but Thorin's gone beyond insane about that thing and he won't recognize friend from foe over it. If you do what I think, then he may very well kill you when he finds out. We're your friends, Bilbo, but we cannot fight our Prince once he's set down an edict," Bombur begged, and Bilbo nodded. He fully well intended to return and face Thorin's wrath, and his justice, over what he planned to do- he still cared for the dwarf, even if that was something which escaped Thorin's mind at the moment, and his own sense of honor wouldn't allow him to abscond in the night without a trace like a true burglar. He would face the consequences of his actions, even to his own death, but he wouldn't torment Bombur with that knowledge.

They parted and Bilbo sat atop the gate and watched the full moon move across the sky before he gathered up enough courage to carry through his plan. His insides shivered with terror the entire time that he walked through the other camp, but in the end, the deed was done and his fate was sealed.

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Please review if you liked or disliked- letting me know what I got right/wrong helps me to improve the next chapter, and any particularly liked bits may make a reappearance :)

I also owe an immeasurable debt of thanks to my beloved friend Sabrina, who (despite not being that familiar with Hobbit canon or particularly liking Thorin/Bilbo slash) has faithfully read each chapter and offered encouragement every step of the way (including a firm rebuttal when I doubted myself). She's my Arkenstone, the Samwise to my Frodo, and I truly could get little done without her. Thank you, dear heart, you are appreciated more than you know.

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WARNING :: WARNING :: WARNING

Ratings _will_ increase starting for the next chapter! This is for dark themes, there are _very_ dark times ahead for a few chapters, and for future (possible) smut.

For those who wish to keep this smut-free, or to see smut (on the AO3 version, at least), THIS IS YOUR CHANCE TO BE HEARD! Sound off and let me know what you desire- I haven't written to those parts yet, I'm up to mapping chapter 15 so far, and I can still go either way if the majority wishes. Personally, I'm ambivalent, which I realize is a horrible thing in an author, but I wish to reward everyone for their marvelous support and give you all what _you_ want. So, let me know: smut, or no smut!


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